


Ours Is the Song

by lilgulie5



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2018-04-23 10:55:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4874098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilgulie5/pseuds/lilgulie5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Daenerys becomes Queen of Westeros she turned her attention to the North, set on aiding Jon Snow, former Lord Commander in the war against the Others. Fighting side-by-side for nearly a year they have been lulled into a false semblance of security, believing the war is finally coming to an end. They fail to realize that the War for the Dawn has only just begun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Daenerys I

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first Game of Thrones/ASOIAF fanfiction here! I love thinking and theorizing about the possibilities of what might happen if Jon and Daenerys should ever meet. This story pulls from both the books and the show. For instance, Ser Barristan is still alive. Dany is already Queen of Westeros and made her way to the Wall to aid Jon. More about how that happened will be revealed in later chapters. I've decided to write POV chapters like GRRM. Dany is first up and the next chapter will be from Jon's POV. I hope you enjoy! Please review if you feel so inclined. I love getting feedback. Thanks! -Katie
> 
> Edit: I also just fixed some of my formatting bugs. Everything I wrote in italics had basically disappeared! So weird.

Daenerys I

 “You’re one of the only people I’ve met who knows no fear,” Jon said. Daenerys’s hand stilled in its motion of tracing patterns on his chest. She was silent for a long time. She thought if she did not speak he’d think she had fallen asleep.

“What makes you think I don’t have fear?” she finally asked quietly.

“The way you lead your men into battle. The way you leap onto Drogon. I can see it in your eyes.”

 She looked up at him then and cocked her eyebrow. The fire had burned too low in the grate and his grey eyes seemed black.

 “My eyes?”

 “You get that fearless look of someone who doesn’t have anything to lose.”

 “You’re wrong. It’s not a look of bravery. I know exactly what there is to lose. It’s because I’m afraid that I know it’s worth fighting for, but I’m not brave. I don’t feel brave.”

 “My father once told my brother that the only time a man can be brave is when he’s afraid.”

 “I’m no man,” Dany whispered. She was beginning to feel uncomfortable for no reason other than he was exposing her innermost thoughts, those which she kept buried deep inside to keep herself and those around her safe.

 “Thank the gods for that,” Jon replied, dipping his head to capture her lips. Dany returned the kiss, sighing softly when she broke it. She gathered the furs around her for warmth and sat up in the bed, her back to Jon when she spoke.

 “I used to loathe your father,” she said. “I hated him for what he did to my family...what I _thought_

he did. I never knew what he did to keep us both safe.”

 “Neither of us did,” he reminded her. “He never could’ve told us. There was too much at risk.”

 “Do you think he would have told you the truth if you had seen him again? Like you said he would, or do you think some secrets are better left unsaid...until the time is right?”

 Jon was silent for a few beats and without looking she could see the curious expression on his face. She sensed perhaps he was trying to read into her thoughts. “I like to think that he would. Maybe he thought I’d try to find you.”

 “Would you have?” Dany asked over her shoulder.

 “I don’t know,” he replied honestly.

  _No_ , Daenerys thought. _You would not have._

 “How different things would have been.”

 “Better or worse?”

 Dany shrugged. She was not sure how to answer. Would the two of them finding each other any sooner have saved anyone from heartache? Would it have been worth it? She wasn’t so sure. “Just different.”

 Jon sat up behind Daenerys then, the cold biting at his exposed skin. He pressed a kiss to her shoulder and ran his hands up and down her arms. She leaned back against him. In the past year since she’d joined his cause against the Others at the Wall being alone with him in her bed was the closest Dany came to feeling safe. For months on end she had pushed aside her feelings for the former Lord Commander. There was no room for love in a place like the Wall. There was no room for love within the vows of the Night’s Watch. There was no room for love in the life of a queen who was fighting for the survival of an entire realm. Or so they thought. Slowly and yet suddenly none of that mattered. The first night they were together so many words were left unspoken. Words of fear, words of loss, words of love. They’d spent the better part of a year, planning, strategizing, fighting side by side.

 That first night they finally gave in had started much the same as every other night, but the two of them remained awake long after Jorah and Barristan retired. Neither Jon nor Dany remembered the exact moment their walls came down, but she knew soon afterwards that the future was too uncertain to give up whatever they had gained. Longing and loneliness had brought them together, but a growing love and respect kept them that way. That night had been nearly four moons past now. _I know. I've counted them._

It scared her how quickly she had come to care for Jon, how deeply she loved him. _It was the same with my sun-and-stars._ But it was not. She knew it was different from falling in love with Drogo. It was all consuming.

 Daenerys didn’t know what Jon had been like before she came to the Wall. She didn’t know how he had been before his brothers turned on him and by some form of magic he was brought back to the land of the living. Then again, she could scarcely remember what she had been like before she stepped out of the ashes with nothing but her dragons. The girl she had been died in the Dothraki Sea. Whatever was left was cleansed by the fire of her husband’s pyre and strengthened through the Red Waste, the House of the Undying and her trials in Slaver’s Bay. She was young, but no longer a girl. She was a queen, a khaleesi, a sacker of cities, a breaker of chains, a mother of dragons and those she had freed. _I am a mother._

 “You’re the one who ended up finding me,” Jon said, dragging her back to the moment.

 “Perhaps I just knew how badly you needed me.” _If only I'd known how badly I needed you as well._ “At the very least I knew you needed my dragons. Sam told me as much.”

 “When I sent Sam to Oldtown to find out how to fight the white walkers I never thought he’d return with a person. Maester Aemon knew to look for you. I regret he never got the chance to meet you.”

 “And what would he have said of this?” she asked as she laced her fingers through his. _He feels warm. He always feels warm. He may have ice running through his veins but there is fire there as well._

 “He once told me ‘love is the death of duty’,” Jon recalled. Dany turned on the bed to face him, her legs draped over his to keep the distance between them close. “That was on the day he revealed he was a Targaryen to me. He knew I was thinking of riding south to help Robb, of abandoning the Watch. He too was tested when Robert raised his rebellion against your brother and father.”

  _Rhaegar was your father, if only by blood._ “Maybe he knew that you were more needed at the Wall. I doubt anyone could have prevented what happened. Not even you, Jon.”

 “He told me ‘What is duty compared to a woman’s love? What is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms?’” Dany glanced up at that, her violet eyes catching his. If he perceived anything he did not reveal as much, but continued on.  “‘Or the memory of a brother’s smile...We are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love. That is our great glory and our great tragedy’.”

 “That doesn’t exactly answer my question.”

 “After he told me who he was he said he would not tell me to stay or go. I needed to make that decision and live with it for the rest of my life.”

 “And can you?” Dany asked, their faces were close, mere inches apart. _I need to know._ “Can you live with _this_?”

 “I have to,” Jon whispered, taking her face in his hands. “I can’t live without it.”

 She turned her face enough to press a kiss to his palm before wrapping her arms around his frame and holding him close. Her face was buried in the crook of his neck and she drank in his scent. Everything about their union should have been forbidden. He was her brother’s son. _Targaryens have always kept the bloodlines pure._ He was the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. _He_ was. _Those vows ended with his death, regardless of what some of his men still called, what_ I _call him for formality._ She was a queen and despite Jon being Rhaegar’s son, he was still a bastard. _But that doesn't matter. Even I am queen now. He could be legitimized with one word._ The last time she gave into her desires for a man it nearly cost her dearly. _Jon is nothing like Daario. He has honor, he would never betray me. I trust him with my life._

Jon kissed her hair. “I should be gone soon.”

 “No, you should stay,” she nearly whined against his skin. “You’ve only just come back and you were away nearly a month.”

 “The men will talk if they see me leave in the morning.”

 “The men already talk because you stay _much_ later than the rest.”

 “And does it not bother you?”

 “Should it?” Dany asked, looking up at Jon. This was not the first time they’d had this argument. Whether or not all of Castle Black knew they were lovers, he returned to his modest quarters behind the armory. They kept their affections for when they were alone, though their guards had slipped on more than one occasion. “You’re not the Lord Commander anymore. You’re not beholden to their vows.”

 “I know,” Jon replied quietly. He pulled away from her and tilted her chin up so he could look at her. “But I will always be a watcher on the Wall. Vows or no, I won’t let this wall fall to the Others, we’ve not wiped them out completely. Not yet. My men still look up to me, they still respect me.”

 “And you think they’d stop because you’ve bedded a queen? _This_ between us is stronger than we know. Don’t you think I tried to resist it, to resist _you?_ ” She was letting the emotions get the better of her. _If I tell him now would it make a difference?_

 “Don’t say it like that. You know it’s more than that, Dany.” His voice softened around her name.

 “I’m sorry.”

 “For what? It’s not as if this is the first time we’ve fought. I doubt it will be the last.”

  _He's trying to make me feel better._ “For wanting more than I can have right now. Every time you go out with the scouts I feel like I wait an eternity for you to return. I feel selfish for wanting this and the worst part is, I don’t care. I won’t apologize for loving you.”

 “And neither will I. If I die tomorrow or if I die in fifty years, I want to know that I died loving you, _trusting_ you, above all others. I would marry you if I could.”

 “What?” Dany ask, surprised at his words. They’d confessed their love before, but never talked of marriage although she spent many nights dreaming of such a day. The dreams were always different, but the one constant was Jon, her brave, handsome, loyal Lord Commander. Dany bit her lip and closed her eyes. _I have to tell him. He_ deserves _to know._ She felt as if her head was in a struggle of conflicting emotions with her heart.

 “I would be yours forever if you would have me,” Jon whispered almost reverently. “But we can’t. You’re the queen and I’m...I’m still a bastard. But if I could, I would.”

 “I would have you,” Dany nearly sobbed taking his face in her hands. “I would have you, Jon Snow. I would have you a thousand thousand times. I don’t care what you think you are. We’re one. I married once to please my family, once for my people, but never for myself, never for love first.”

 “What would they say in King’s Landing?”

 “Damn what they would say. I don’t need to be married in a Sept in front of gods I don’t worship of a faith I don’t believe in. I kept the Faith to keep the peace. I would marry you here at Castle Black.”

 “It’s not safe.”

 “Why not?”

 “Because Night King aside there are still enemies around us still. This could make us both vulnerable from within and without.”

 “There has to be some way.” _You can't give me this and then take it away with one breath._

 “There’s a godswood a mile north of the Wall. The heart tree there is where I said my vows. Any vows said before a heart tree are binding. We could keep it a secret...for now.”

  _Another secret._ “The area is secure?”

 “It’s been secure for months.”

 “How soon?”

 “On the morrow if it pleases your grace,” Jon said with a teasing smirk as he pulled her onto his lap.

 “It does please me,” Dany replied, circling his neck with her arms. She kissed him soundly and rolled her hips the way she learned years ago. “ _You_ please me.”

 “Gods, Daenerys,” he cursed against her lips, letting his hands trail down her back.

 “Which ones? The old or the new?”

 “ _Both_ if you don’t stop.”

 “And why would I stop?” she asked, feeling him harden again beneath her.

 “Your first welcome was exhausting for a man who has been riding all day for nearly a week straight after being gone close to a month.”

 Dany smiled at the memory of their coupling earlier that evening. It had been frenzied, both of them barely getting the chance to remove their clothes before tumbling onto her bed without shedding their smallclothes.

 “You’re speaking to the khaleesi of the Dothraki Sea, a week upon a mount is nothing. Your body betrays you, Lord Snow. Tomorrow I will be your wife. I consider it my duty to tend to your needs.”

 She raised her hips and lowered herself down onto him, keeping her eyes locked on his the whole time. Jon laid his hands on her hips and massaged them lightly in encouragement. When she felt his fingertips drift over her stomach she paused for a moment, searching his eyes. _He knows. He couldn't tell earlier when we were both yet in our smallclothes, but he knows. Even in the dim light he knows._

 "Your grace," he began and swallowed hard. "Does _your_ body betray you?"

 "Jon, I-"

 “Do you deny it?”

 “Why would I?” she asked softly, sliding off of him and covering herself with the furs once more. She was suddenly self conscious of his eyes on her.

 “Because you kept it from me.” He was sitting up now, running a hand through his dark mess of curls. “Kept if from me for long enough that even I can tell.”

 “I wasn’t sure.” Dany replied desperately. _It's the truth._ “I didn’t even know it was still possible. Not after Rhaego, not after what the maegi said.”

 “How _is_ it possible?”

 “I don’t know. How is it possible that a man is raised from the dead? How is it possible that a girl can walk  into flames and emerge unscathed? I don’t have an answer. Maybe the maegi lied to me. Maybe it was possible all along.”

 “You should’ve told me.”

 “I wanted to be certain. I _needed_ to be certain,” she stressed, turning to face him. “After Rhaego died, after what Mirri Maz Duur said to me I didn’t dare hope I could have another. What if this was taken away from me again?”

 "No one will take this child from you,” Jon vowed. He took one of her small trembling hands into his own and kissed it almost reverently. “I swear it to you. No one will harm your child... _our_ child. Not while I have breath in my body.”

 “I never meant to deceive you.”

 “I know.”

 “I wanted to tell you a hundred times, especially before you left for Winterfell. I knew you needed to go and if you knew you’d want to stay.”

 “I would’ve, to keep you safe.”

 “I have dragons for that,” Dany smiled, referring to her other children. “And Ser Barristan and Jorah. This can’t affect our campaign here.”

 “But it does. The white walkers are subdued, save for the Night King and his cohort. You should return to King’s Landing.”

 “I’m not leaving the Wall until we have complete victory in the North. Tyrion is perfectly capable of handling matters in King’s Landing.”

 “This isn’t about politics, it’s about safety.”

 “So your solution is to send me back to the capital where we have enemies as well? The fighting may have ended with my ascension to the Iron Thrones but there will always be those who hate my family, _our_ family. Wherever I go, some kind of danger will follow.”

 Dany had spent her entire life running from one place to another, and now that she finally had the opportunity to stop she did not know how. Her new ladies-in-waiting in King’s Landing had thought her preference of boots over a delicate pair of slippers was odd. _They don't know what it's like to flee at a moment's notice. How fortunate for them._ She loved Jon for wanting to keep her out of harm’s way, truly she did, but being away from him was not the answer. She cupped his cheek in her hand and kissed him chastely, drawing him down so they were lying face to face.

 “I can’t lose you,” Jon said, pulling her to him so they’re bodies were flush together.

 “You won’t,”Dany replied, resting her forehead against his.

 “You could go to Winterfell.”

 “To Winterfell?”

 “If we feel you’re in danger. If we perceive there is a threat that I can’t protect you from promise me you’ll take Ser Barristan, Rakharo, Missandei, your ladies, and Drogon to Winterfell. Stay with Sansa and stay safe. Promise me, Daenerys.”

 Dany reluctantly nodded her head in agreement. After everything he’d been through, everything he’d done and continued to do for her and for the realm he deserved the small piece of mind she could give him. The past few years had not been kind to either of them. Jon had lost men he called father, brother, and friend. She knew the toll it took on him, knew the guilt he bore for each life lost. She had her own ghosts as well. Ghosts that were a connection to her past. Ghosts both living and deceased. For too long she had dwelt among them, let them consume her thoughts and actions. In a war against death itself, she was now firmly planted on the side of the living. Her entire life had been affected by one war or another. She was growing weary of it. She still craved the tranquility that was brought on by her dreams of the house with the red door. Although they seemed to become less frequent in the past year, she still yearned for the feeling of peace that always accompanied them.

 “I can’t believe I didn’t notice earlier,” Jon said, interrupting her thoughts as he ghosted his knuckles across the gentle swell of her stomach.

 “We were both very... _anxious_ to celebrate your safe return,” Dany grinned. She threaded her fingers through his black curls and pressed her lips against his. “You weren’t still thinking about about returning to your quarters, were you?”

 “You’ve given me some compelling reasons to stay, at least until first light. Soon enough the men will know. Some of them may be dense, but they’re not stupid. For the time being it’s still a good idea to keep it between us.”

 “You want to keep me your secret?” she asked.

 “I don’t _want_ to,” Jon replied, kissing her quickly. “But the Queen of Westeros wedding some bastard from the Night’s Watch isn’t exactly a prudent political move for you.”

 “I’ll just convince my small council that I did it to further secure an alliance with the North.”

 “You almost make it sound easy.”

 “It is,” Dany yawned. “I’m the queen and as I’ve told you, this time I intend to marry for love.”

 “My queen is tired.”

 “A late night meeting with one of her most trusted advisers has proved to be tiring, but it was well worth it.”

 Silently, Jon bent his head to capture her lips, sliding his arms around her once more. Dany ran her palms down his chest and moaned lightly when he traced his tongue along her bottom lip before pulling back. “Sleep, Daenerys.”

 “I’m not tired yet,” she murmured as she tucked herself against him and laid her head in the crook of Jon’s neck.

 "You’re a terrible liar,” he chuckled and rested his chin on top of her head.

 “I’m a queen not a politician, I don’t need to be a good liar.”

 “But you do need your rest, tomorrow night we’ll ride to the godswood.”

 “Then I shall spend all day waiting for the night.”

 Dany kissed Jon’s chest and closed her eyes, breathing him in deeply, memorizing his scent before falling into the first peaceful night’s sleep in nearly a month.


	2. Jon I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Daenerys's clandestine affair becomes something more while two other characters become privy to their relationship.

**A/N: Welcome to chapter 2! Thank you for all of the feedback. This chapter is from Jon’s POV. Please review if you feel so inclined. Thanks! -Katie**

 

Jon

 

Pale light filtered into the room through the yellow diamond-shaped windowpanes on the far side of Daenerys’s bedchamber. The dim beams were scant enough to leave the room still draped mostly in darkness, but it was the sign of first light and Jon knew he should be gone soon. The notion to remain tucked under the furs next to the slumbering woman beside him was appealing, but one he could not entertain, at least not yet. Shifting carefully in the bed he gazed down at her and his heart ached to touch her. _Best not,_ he chiding himself. Dany’s silver hair was tousled and splayed out across the pillow, her face the perfect mask of serenity. Jon had learned shortly after their tryst began that anything could wake her. Movement, a sound, a dream. She had explained it away as the after effects of being constantly fearful as a child that one of the Usurper’s dogs would find and kill her. For all the security Jon thought he could give her, it was something she was mostly unable to shake. Despite his best efforts to steal away from her bed in the cover of darkness each night they shared she almost always inevitably awoke, lazily pleaded with him to stay, and when that proved unsuccessful, fell back to sleep.

To Jon, Dany looked ethereal in the pre-dawn, her skin nearly glowing against the dark furs tucked up under her chin. She looked delicate and fragile but he knew that was just a trick of the light. Beneath the unassuming exterior was a warrior as fierce as any he’d ever known. That was one trait he’d always admired about her. Men often underestimated her and she let them, knowing full-well they would regret their misjudgment.

Daring to reach out a hand to tuck a stray tendril of hair behind Dany’s ear, Jon noticed just how frigid the room was. He guessed that Irri and Jhiqui normally built up the fire, but there was no sign that either woman had been about in the chamber yet. With a sigh he slid to the edge of the bed and dressed, padding to the fireplace and kindling a new fire. Ghost lifted his head in silent recognition from his usual spot next to the fireplace. It had surprised Jon how quickly the direwolf grew to trust and seek out Dany’s company. As the flames grew and licked over the small pieces of wood he fed to it, Jon recalled the events of the previous night.

It was difficult for him to fathom the idea of being a father, although not for lack of fervor. He had simply never let himself imagine such a thing, not since joining the Watch, not even with Ygritte, especially not with Daenerys. It did not take long after her arrival to the Wall for them to become close. Their age, their cause, their blood were all binders that created common ground. Although he didn’t realize it in the moment, Dany came at a time when he needed her the most. After Melisandre returned to him the breath of life Jon felt different. In many ways he _was_ different. He spent many sleepless nights wandering aimlessly upon the wall-walk. On nights when he felt the loneliest he walked atop the Wall itself. It was on one such night that he came upon Dany. She wasn’t alone then. _She rarely ever is_. In the distance, the Lord Commander of her Queensguard Barristan Selmy stood like a silent shadow. For the first time since they’d met she looked vulnerable, her fair skin and silvery hair blending into the solid mass of snow and ice.

“I remember my first time looking out North of the Wall,” he had said to her.

“What makes you think this is my first time, Lord Snow?” she’d asked.

“I can see it on your face.”

Dany opened her mouth as if to speak, whether in affirmation or protest he couldn’t tell, but closed it and fixed her gaze on the horizon once more. She’d looked younger in that moment. Away from her entourage save for Barristan, Jon had seen the young woman that still lay beneath the queenly persona. She was beautiful in all the ways Ygritte had not been and yet it was false to call her beauty conventional. How she could be both fierce and delicate at the same time he’d never know. Her very existence seemed like a mystery to him and when she finally turned back to him, violet eyes gleaming, he’d felt something inside of him awaken once more.

“Does it ever end?”

“Does what end, your Grace?”

“The land North of the Wall. Some say there is a land of eternal winter past the Haunted Forest.”

“Aye,” Jon said. “The Land of Always Winter they call it. Some say it’s where the Others first came from. Some say the world will end when the winter overtakes everything.”

“We can’t let that happen.”

“No, your Grace. We won’t,” he’d assured her.

“Daenerys.”

“Your grace?”

“You needn’t be so formal when we’re alone. Sometimes...sometimes I just want to feel like myself. Not a queen, not a promised princess. What good is a kingdom to rule if I forget who I am?”

“I think I know a little something about that.”

“Of course you do.” She smiled at him then. He remembered it still as an understanding smile that warmed him through and through.

“Do you believe in all of this? The prophecies, I mean.”

“My life has made it hard to deny them. What about you, Lord Snow?”

“Jon.”

“Jon. Do you believe in what the Red Woman says? That you’re Azor Ahai reborn?”

“I know only what I know. She brought me back from the dead. If I help defeat the Others in the process maybe they’ll write a song or legend about me. Until then, I’m just another former Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. You don’t trust her?”

“My life hasn’t given me much reason to trust women who dabble in magic,” she told him, a frown threatening to pull the corners of her mouth downward as she walked past him. “Maybe some other time I’ll tell you why. Goodnight, Jon.”

It had taken another month before she told him one night. They were North of the Wall on campaign and had just won a battle. The warmed wine they’d allowed themselves gave him the courage to ask her once again why she didn’t trust Melisandre or magic. Daenerys drained her cup and told him, every last detail and when she was done Jon could only sit in silence. He’d heard stories about her, everyone had, but he’d never known the depth of the sadness that accompanied them.

“And now you know,” she’d said quietly.

“Daenerys, I-” he began before she cut him off.

“Please don’t tell me how sorry you are. I made a choice. I chose to trust someone. I live with my decision. I can’t say I’ll never trust Melisandre, but she’s done nothing to earn my trust yet.”

Jon was pulled from his thoughts by the sounds of rustling on the bed behind him. He stood from the fire and wiped his hands on his pants. When he turned around Daenerys had propped herself up on her elbow and was smiling lazily at him.

“How long have you been watching me?” he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Long enough,” she replied.

“I should’ve been gone already.”

“Why?”

“Because now that you’re awake it’ll be harder to leave. It’s still the hour of the nightingale yet. You should sleep more.”

“You should know better than to give commands to your queen,” Dany teased and sat up in bed, the furs falling to her waist leaving the top of her body exposed.

“It was merely a suggestion,” Jon replied with a grin, keeping his eyes locked on hers. “And I know what you’re trying to do.”

“Stay and I’ll consider your suggestion.”

“I can’t. I’ve some matters to attend to in the training yard today.”

“Suit yourself.”

Jon watched then and she shoved the rest of the covers aside and left the bed. _She’s doing this on purpose._ He knew that she was well aware of the effect she had on him. He followed her across the room and when she covered her body with a robe that was haphazardly strewn over a chair he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. Her arms covered his and he felt her sink back into his embrace. He pulled the robe away from her shoulder enough to press a warm kiss to the soft skin.

“If I gave in to every desire, I doubt we’d leave your bed today.”

An amused chuckle reverberated through Dany’s body and she turned in his arms. Rising up on her toes she kissed him sweetly, tasting of the wine left on the bedside table from the night before. “Perhaps tomorrow morning.”

“Not even tomorrow morning,” Jon said honestly, watching her face fall into a sad smile.

“I know...call it wishful thinking.”

“You deserve more.” _It’s the truth. What can a bastard give to a queen?_

“Never say that again unless you want me to strike you,” Daenerys said. “There will come a day months or years from now when I will wake in your arms and won’t fear the thought of you needing to be gone. For now we must do as we should.”

“What can I give you?”

“Wholeness.” She reached up and cupped his cheek in her small hand with a tenderness he had only ever felt from her. “I know how you see yourself, Jon. You’re more than that, whether or not you chose to accept it. You’re an embodiment of two great houses. You are both Targaryen and Stark and so is our child.”

"I know," he said, softening. "I just...how I was raised, as a Northerner, that's all I know."

"And that's more than enough. Just never doubt yourself to me again. Never question why we belong to each other."

"I only worry for you. What if the lords don't accept this."

"We went through this last night. The lords don't have a choice. You are my choice, that's all they need be concerned with. I’m securing the friendship of the North. Anyone can see that it’s an advantageous match.”

“Except for any lord who had designs on wedding himself or his own son to you,” Jon pointed out.

“I’ve told you,” Dany said with an exasperated sigh. _She’s getting annoyed with me. But she needs to think about the consequences._ “I’ve already married for the sake of other people’s best interests and look how that turned out. I will rule best knowing there is someone by my side who loves me and supports _me_ , not just because I’m the queen. I need someone I can trust.”

_She trusts me more than half of the Watch does and she’s known me far less a time than some._ Jon pressed his lips to Dany’s forehead and lingered for a moment. These moments when they were alone together helped him remember who he was, what he was fighting for, what _they_ were fighting for. When he had sent Sam to the Citadel to find answers about how to fight the White Walkers he had no idea that his friend would return with the newly self-proclaimed Queen of Westeros with her dragons in tow. He had admittedly been unconcerned with most of the squabbling and fighting that took place in and around King’s Landing involving Daenerys and Aegon, the so-called Mummer’s Dragon. Sam had sent ravens informing him of her victory, insisting that Maester Aemon must’ve been right about her all along. She had asked him to serve as her Maester, a post which he needed Jon’s permission in order to accept. She knew who Jon was, whose _son_ he was, and it came as little surprise to him that she required him to bend the knee to her. He’d told her in no uncertain terms that he had no desires for a throne, but he couldn’t help who his parents were. She smiled at him for the first time and said she understood. She certainly hadn’t chosen to be the Mad King’s daughter.

“I just don’t want you to regret this months or years from now,” Jon murmured against her skin and felt her arms tighten around him.

“Jon Snow, if you want to take back your offer, you may do so, but I could never regret this.”

“Nor could I,” he reassured her. “We can ride out after night has fallen, just after the hour of the bat. Fewer people will ask questions. Meet me at the stables then.”

“Until then,” Dany affirmed.

Jon reluctantly stepped away from her embrace and fastened his sword about him, tossing his heavy cloak over his shoulders he called Ghost to him from his place near the hearth before walking out into the breaking daylight. He was no more than three steps from Daenerys’s door when he nearly ran into Ser Barristan.

“Lord Commander Selmy,” he said, nodding to the highest ranking member of the Queensguard.

“Lord Snow,” the older man replied, seeming somewhat amused.

“I was just...I didn’t know you’d be here and-.”

“There’s a riddle the Queen told me once. Who listens to everything, yet hear nothing?”

Jon stared at Ser Barristan without answering for a few moment, unsure whether or not the Queensguard was testing him or not.

“A member of the Kingsguard,” Barristan replied. “My duty is to keep the queen safe, not pass judgment on who she chooses to spend her...time with.”

“I thank you for your discretion, Ser,” Jon said, a blush of embarrassment creeping up his neck.

“No need to thank me. What can a man who hears nothing say? Good day, Lord Snow.”

Jon nodded as he walked past Barristan, his mind still attempting to wrap around what had just occurred. Despite the old knight’s words he couldn’t help but feel self-conscious about being seen leaving Daenerys’s rooms. _Better Ser Barristan than Ser Jorah._ While Jon believed the Queensguard’s words to be true: that he would not judge his queen for what he perceived to be the reason for Jon leaving her chambers at first light. He could not say the same for Ser Jorah.

From the onset of even his friendship with Dany, Jon felt as if shades of jealousy painted Jorah’s face. She had told him all that transpired over the years between her and the man she met upon her marriage to Khal Drogo. His service, betrayal, exile, and ultimately, her forgiveness. Jon wasn’t sure he would have been so kind, Even without Dany blatantly saying so, it was clear Jorah was perhaps more than devoted to her. _He worships the ground she walks upon and hangs on her every word. He’s even kissed her once long ago._ The one time he brought it up in conversation late at night, Dany merely shook her head and said he had nothing to fear where Jorah was concerned, he wasn’t the one sharing her bed or her heart. That should have been enough for him. Indeed, it _was_ enough for him, he didn’t doubt her devotion. She had never given him a reason to. The dilemma posed by a secret relationship was that he couldn’t defend it to the likes of Ser Jorah Mormont.

Jon proceeded through the motions of the day as if it had been any other. He dined with the men in the hall and tried to avoid any unnecessary glances towards Daenerys. She was flanked by Ser Jorah on one side and Missandei on the other. He was sure Ser Barristan wasn't far away. He had noted early on that she didn’t stay cooped up in the King’s Tower, but preferred to be about the men. It was no wonder they were so devoted to her. Having left the Common Hall he made his way down to the training yard, content to see the men already hard at work. He had been impressed by the obedience and sheer will and determination of the Unsullied that Dany brought with her to the wall, along with about half of her Dothraki horde. There were so many of them that Castle Black couldn't possibly hope to accommodate them all. Jon had sent a number of them to the different strongholds along the Wall.

Satisfied with the progress of the trainees, Jon left the yard for the rookery. He tried hard not to think about all of the times he visited Maester Aemon there, seeking his sage advice. His words of _Kill the boy and let the man be born_ still often rang in his ears. It was from the Maester’s lips that he first heard the name _Daenerys_. He could still remember the inexplicable feeling it evoked. She was young, she was alone in the world, and Aemon believed she needed to be protected. From what or whom he could not say, but he felt keenly aware of his responsibility to respect the Maester’s words.

“Sam?” Jon called out as he entered the rookery. The space was dimly lit and smelled of old books and scrolls, of candle wax and ink.

“Three rows down,” the new maester replied and Jon followed the sound of his voice.

“Hard at work as usual.”

“I keep thinking there must be something I’ve overlooked or something we’ve misinterpreted all these years.”

“I have a favor to ask of you. Are you alone now?”

“No one else cares much about the book save for Gilly and Missandei and they’re both off attending to other things.”

“Good, because what I ask of you requires the utmost discretion.”

“The last time you asked me something like that you sent me to the Citadel,” Sam said warily. “Am I going to like the sound of this?”

“Probably not,” Jon replied, allowing himself a smirk at his friend’s usual reluctance. “But you’re the only person who can do this for me, for us.”

“Us? Who is _us_?”

“I mean to wed Daenerys in front of the heart tree tonight, the one where we said our vows on the edge of the Haunted Forest.”

“You’re….what? Does she know about it?”

“Of course she knows about it.”

“I knew there was something between the two of you, but I thought you we just showing her how the Northerners stay warm at night, d’you know what I mean?”

Jon rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Yes Sam, I know what you mean. And no, that’s not all that’s between us. I can assure you.”

“What do you need me for? You don’t need a maester to marry in front of a heart tree.”

“I need you to go ahead of us. Take a lantern or two and wait for us there. And I need you to find the words we’re to say to each other. Can you do that for me, Sam?”

“Of course I can.” He stood up a little taller then. “It would be my honor.”

“Good,” Jon clapped him on the shoulder and made for the door. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

“Jon wait. Do you love her then? The queen I mean.”

_More than I thought I could. More than I ever wanted to. More than I probably should._ “I do,” Jon nodded simply and left the rookery.

Nightfall came at an excruciatingly slow pace, but just after the watch changed he slipped from his rooms and made his way to the stables. With a bit of luck Sam would have already been gone out ahead of them already. Jon didn’t fear the thought of leaving Castle Black alone with Daenerys. There were any number of excuses to be used as an explanation of why they were riding out together north of the Wall, but because she was the Queen she answered to no one. He doubted any of his men would dare ask her why she was leaving.

He dressed that night not in the black garments his still wore on day in and day out of habit, but instead donned the attire of the Starks. The doublet was a greyish shade of blue and his surcoat was supple brown leather. It reminded him of the only father he ever knew, the man who put duty, honor, and promises he made above everything else. _I may be a Targaryen, but the man I owe my life to, the man I will always call father is Ned Stark._ It pained Jon that he would never know his mother. He tried hard to remember every detail of the stories he heard about her when he was growing up, when he still believed she was his headstrong aunt. Whenever he went south to Winterfell he visited the crypt to pay his respects, but stone statues couldn’t speak or comfort and he always left with a heavy heart. He asked Dany to tell him stories she had been told about Rhaegar as well. He searched them for similarities to himself, longing to feel a connection to a man, _no a legend_ , he would never meet. He was jealous when Dany told him she sometimes still dreamt of her eldest brother.

“Do _not_ envy me,” she had told him. “For every two dreams I have, there is a nightmare lurking within the night as well.”

The hour of the bat followed dusk as Jon made his way to the stables. He expected to arrive first and saddle the horses but when he reached the stable doors he saw Daenerys already tending to her silver. He held back for a moment, taking in the sight before him. Beneath her heavy, grey fur-lined cloak she wore a long blue dress. It was a color she wore often. As always she wore boots. Her hair was down about her shoulders, adorned with only a few small braids. He liked it best that way and allowed himself to think briefly that she knew and had it fixed accordingly. It was something she would do. He noticed that Dany preferred small gestures of that nature as opposed to grand ones just to make a show. She’d stocked her decanters with his favorite wine, wore a gown in his presence if he’d commented on it, teased him in ways she knew she could get away with. She was effortlessly beautiful even inside of a dank stable.

“Are you going to saddle your house or stand in the doorway all evening?” Daenerys asked, a smirk playing on her lips. “I can see you standing there.”

“I’m sorry, I was just-”

“Staring?”

“Can you blame me?” Jon asked, walking forward into the stable. He covered her hand on the silver’s bridle, the only gesture he could allow himself.

“I could, but where would that leave us?”

“Are you ready then? I sent Sam out ahead of us.”

“Sam? What for?”

“Just to make sure it’s safe and I’ve asked him to look up words to say. I’ve seen people wed before, but I was young.”

“Does he need to say anything as a maester?” Dany asked.

“No, I didn’t ask him because he’s a maester. The old gods have no priests, septons, or maesters. I asked him because I knew we could trust him. He was the closest to Maester Aemon. I thought he could speak on your behalf.”

“We best not keep him waiting then.”

The pair mounted their horses and rode out of the stables, Ghost meandering in between them. Though the night had already come a full moon shone brightly ahead, lighting their way. Men milled about Castle Black but as far as Jon could tell, they paid them no heed. Jon wondered how Dany had been able to leave without the ever-present Barristan or Jorah at her side. They rode silently to the grove of heart trees within the Haunted Forest. During the morning and daylight hours the woods could be filled with free folk hunting for prey, but at night many of them returned again to their homes to escape the cold. Jon thought of the first time he had ridden north of the wall to the grove of heart trees when he and Sam and his brothers said their vows. It had all seemed so long ago. _Another lifetime, truly._ He remembered the words the Old Bear had said to him more than once. _The things we love destroy us every time, lad._ Those words never rang more true after Ygritte, but glancing over at Daenerys, seeing her breath in the cold winter air, Jon couldn’t help but think Mormont had been wrong. Melisandre might have resurrected Jon, but Dany brought him back to life. She reminded him of his purpose, gave him focus and vision. She was someone who believed in him and someone he, in turn, could put his faith in as well.

The light from Sam’s lanterns grew brighter and brighter until sooner than he realized they were in the midst of the weirwood grove. He dismounted and walk around to help Dany from her silver, much more out of propriety than necessity. Although she was probably more skilled on horseback than anyone he knew she had the grace not to refuse him and placed her gloved hand firmly in his own.

“Your Grace,” Sam said, bowing deeply before her.

“Rise Maester Samwell,” Daenerys replied, shaking her head. “You know there is no need for such formalities. Especially here. You honor me and my house by your assistance and discretion tonight.”

“Have you found what I asked, Sam?” Jon asked.

“I have. It’s right here.” The maester handed him a small scroll and took it back once his friend had read it over.

“Ghost to me,” Jon said as he walked toward the familiar weirwood with its ominous carved face.

Sam offered Dany his arm and led her into the grove before the heart tree. Her porcelain skin glowed in the moonlight and the stars shown over them like an endless sea of light.

“Who comes?” Jon asked, reciting the ancient words. “Who comes before the god?”

“Daenerys of House Targaryen comes here to be wed,” Sam answered. “A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble, she comes to beg the blessings of the gods. Who comes to claim her?”

“I do. Jon of...Houses Stark and Targaryen. I claim her. Who gives her?”

“Samwell of House Tarly. In the place of her family, of the late Aemon Targaryen. Daenerys, will you take this man?”

“I take this man,” Dany said confidently, and Jon thought he saw the glisten of tears well up in her eyes though she was smiling at him.

Taking her by the hand, Jon led Daenerys to kneel before the heart tree. He bowed his head and begged the old gods to bless their union, to keep them safe, to make them strong against their foes. _Give me the strength to protect her and our child. Give me the wisdom and courage to do what I must to guard the realm._ Gazing up into the carved face of the tree he wondered if his brother and Bloodraven were watching them. When he glanced sideways at Dany her eyes were closed and her head was still bowed. He could only guess what she was praying for. She had told him once that she wasn’t sure what believed in anymore. The Faith of the Seven seemed altogether too politically inclined for her liking. They had supported Aegon in his conquest of Westeros and she had spared them in her mercy when she defeated the Mummer’s Dragon. She wondered aloud one night if all of the gods were one in the same, but a different expression based upon each people’s beliefs. Far off in the distance a wolf howled. Jon knew that howl. It was as familiar to him as his brother’s laugh. He knew without a doubt it was Summer. Ghost looked a Jon, cocked his head and then trotted off in the direction of his brother.

Jon squeezed Dany’s hand and helped her rise to her feet. Pulling her close he cupped her face in his hand and kissed his wife for the first time. The ceremony had been brief. It lacked the pomp and frivolity of the Faith, but Jon felt as if it bound them together more wholly. They were making a promise and a vow to one another, with the blessing of the old gods, but not solely for them. He helped Dany back onto her horse and together they rode the short distance to Castle Black, as silently as they had on their journey to the Haunted Forest. Even Sam recognized the solemnity of the occasion and remind quiet.

They left the horses with Sam and the stable hands and climbed the steps to the wall walk that led to the King’s Tower. Jon resisted every urge to reach out for Dany, to hold her hand, to slip his arm about her hip. There would be time enough for that. He searched the training yard below for any signs of Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan or anyone who might have known they left Castle Black, and found none. It wasn’t uncommon for him to be at the King’s Tower with her. Many nights were spent with her small council going over maps and strategies. On this night the only people inside her chambers when they entered were Irri and Jhiqui, even Missandei was elsewhere. Dany removed her cloak and handed it to one of the women along with her gloves.

“Irri, Jhiqui leave us for the night,” she said stepping close to the fire to warm her hands. “I won’t have need of you until the morning. Lord Snow and I have matters to attend to.”

Jon waited until the women left the tower before walking up behind Daenerys and placing his hands on her hips. He held her for a few moments before moving her silvery gold hair away from her neck and placing his lips against her ear.

“And what sort of _matters_ must you attend to tonight, my queen?” he whispered.

“Most important matters with my husband,” she replied. “And I don’t want us to be disturbed.”

Without another word Daenerys pulled away from him and led him from the hearth. She reached up and unfastened his cloak, letting it fall heavily to the ground. Jon removed his gloves and tossed them onto the table next to a plate or food and the decanter of wine that had been left for them. He let Dany take his hands into hers, lacing their fingers together and feeling her thumb graze over the scarred skin of his right hand. She reached up and kissed him then, slowly and full of longing. Jon pulled her to himself and deepened the kiss, drinking her in and wanting to taste every inch of her. He audibly groaned when she broke the kiss. With a grin pulling at the corners of her full lips, Dany began to unlace the leather surcoat, making quick work of it and pushing it off his shoulders to join his cloak on the floor. Shedding his doublet, he gave his new wife access to a grey linen shirt. Her warm hands slid under the hem and pushed it up as her palms ghosted over the planes of his scarred and battle hardened torso and chest. As the shirt passed over his head Jon leaned forward to capture Dany’s lips once more.

“I wasn’t finished,” she murmured against him.

“Forgive me, but I realized I was grossly underdressed compared to you.”

“Perhaps you should do something about that.”

“I fully intend to.”

Jon thought he heard the faintest squeal pass Dany’s lips as he turned her around and began pulling at the fine laces on her gown. He nearly growled in frustration. It would have been easier if she was wearing one of her gauzy light dresses of Essos or even a Dothraki painted vest. The more formal gowns were a nuisance to him. His fingers pulled on the laces until the fabric gave way with a _riiiip_.

“Do _not_ tear my gown anymore,” Dany said, turning around to reveal she was more amused than upset. With a bit of maneuvering she slipped the garment from her shoulder and let it slide down her frame and pool at her hips. Jon reached out and pushed it down the rest of the way, holding her hand as she stepped out of it and into his arms.

Jon was no poet, no troubadour or minstrel, yet at the sight of Daenerys, hisbride, standing before him he felt as if he could write a thousand songs and still not be able to describe her beauty. Somewhere, ages and ages hence someone would write songs about her. They would tell of her bravery, her courage, her dragons, and yes, her beauty, but no one would know it as he knew it. _No one would know how soft her skin is, the fullness of her lips, the way she could smile with only her laughing violet eyes, the sighs that were his alone, the way she curled up to him in the night…_

“You’re far away,” Daenerys said, putting her fingers under his chin. “I can tell.”

“I’m right here,” Jon replied. “I was thinking about you.”

“Why think of me when you can love me?”

“That I can do.”

Jon lifted Dany into his arms and carried her over to the bed, setting her down gently. She held him close and peppered kisses across his face as her hands roamed over his chest, shoulders, and back. They had been together dozens upon dozens of times. Sometimes it was a stolen moment, heated and frenzied, other times they took their pleasure at a more leisurely pace, yet no matter the circumstance her touch could still raise the hairs on the back of his neck. Dany moaned in protest when Jon’s lips left hers but he heard her breath catch in her throat when his mouth trailed down her body, paying close attention to every spot that made her gasp and sigh and bury her hands in his hair. After he caused her first release she pulled him back up so they were face to face once more. Her deft fingers unlaced his breeches and she pushed them down. When she stroked him and guided him to her center he rested his forehead against her, pausing briefly before joining their lips and their bodies in unison. They moved together, a tangle of limbs, lust, and love and Jon allowed himself to relinquish the final grasps he had on his past. This night was another rebirth for him, another step away from the life he had known for so long. He had taken a wife, he would father sons and daughters if the gods so pleased, but he held no regret. In another time and another place he had needed to be a man of the Watch, but the Night’s Watch he had believed in as a boy no longer existed. _Kill the boy and let the man be born._ What remained at the Wall now were men who were called to a higher purposes, just as he now was. He _would_ still protect the realm by pledging his life, his heart, and his soul to its queen.Their union would reforged a dynasty with a pact of ice and fire such as the world had never known before.

Dany arched into Jon, meeting him thrust for thrust in the steady rhythm he set. Jon could feel himself nearing the edge, reaching the breaking point. He nipped at her pulse point and soothed it with his tongue, feeling the heartbeat and fire beneath her skin. She tightened her grip on him, her heels digging into his back when they had once been languidly brushing his calves. Jon could tell Dany was trying her best to be quiet as she bit her lower lip and then pressed her head back against the pillow, her hips jutting into his. As he pulled back slightly, her eyes opened and she gazed up at him almost pleadingly to give them what they both desired. When her moment of ecstasy came Jon covered Dany’s mouth with his own, swallowing up her cries. He buried his head in the crook of her neck when he came moments later, his entire body spent.

“Jon,” Daenerys whispered so softly he barely heard it. Her breasts were still heaving beneath him as she tried to catch her breath. She nuzzled his forehead, placing featherlight kisses on his temple.

“Hmmm?” It was the only response he could muster for a moment. He kissed her shoulder, her neck and chin, and finally her lips. “Did I not love you well enough, wife?”

“Oh no, you _most_ certainly did. Say that again.”

“What?”

“Call me your wife again.”

“Can I get my wife anything?” he asked, letting a strand of her hair slip through his fingers. She picked her head up and brushed her lips over his before sinking back into her pillow with a contented sigh.

“Wine?” she suggested.

“Wine it is,” Jon replied pushing himself off the bed. He didn’t bother with clothes as he strode the short distance to the table and poured them a cup. Picking up the platter of food for good measure he set it next to Daenerys and climbed back onto the bed.

“Did you work up an appetite?”

“A bit,” he shrugged, handing the goblet to her. “I thought you might be hungry.”

She sipped the wine and handed it back to him. Jon watched as she carefully selected a bite from the tray and reclined on her side. Dany pushed the plate towards him as she stretched her limbs.

“You can have the fish, the smell of it practically makes me ill now.”

“Don’t Irri and Jhiqui know that?” Jon asked.

“Of course,” she replied, looking up at him. “But you like it so I told them to add it.”

“You didn’t have to,” he said, taking a gulp of wine and placing it on the bedside table. He eased onto the bed so that his head was close to hers.

“I wanted to. You’re my husband, let me spoil you in the little ways that I can.”

“But I can’t-”

Dany pressed a finger to his lips. “Jon, don’t finish that sentence. We are equals. You’ve given me things no one else has. If I can’t tell the whole world you’re mine yet then let me have what little moments I can without protest from you. Out there we are who Westeros needs us to be, but within these walls we are Jon and Dany, two people who fell in love when their world was falling apart around them. Will you let me have that?”

“I suppose I should,” he said with a rueful smile. “It’s the least I can do for what you’ve given to me.”

Jon reached out and slid his hand over the soft sheet that covered Daenerys. Her chambers were a fusion of all the different cultures she had lived in. The sheets covering her were light and silky, fitting for the warmth of Essos and complimentary to the furs that were pushed to the foot of the bed. His finger-tips crept over the barely visible swell beneath the blankets. Clothed in the heavy woolen dresses and furs it was impossible to detect, but naked and exquisitely exposed the signs of life within her were evident. _Our child. Perhaps a boy with silver hair or a girl with raven hair and purple eyes like her mother._ Dany’s hand brushed over his and her fingers traced his knuckles.

“I actually noticed first this time,” she said.

“Noticed?” Jon asked.

“With Rhaego I didn’t quite know what was happening. I had suspected, but it took Irri to make me realize it was true. This time though...I think I knew from the beginning, even before you left. I just felt different. I’d lie awake at night and not feel so alone.”

“How much longer until, I mean, when will it be here?”

“Four or five moons from now.”

“That doesn’t give us much time.”

“I already promised you,” Daenerys reminded him. “If we feel as if the situation becomes too dangerous here I will go to Winterfell.”

“Is Winterfell worthy of the birth of a prince or princess.”

“It was worthy enough to be the home of the king consort of Westeros. Why should his child not be born there?”

“King consort,” Jon repeated uncertainly.

“That’s what you’ve become this night.”

“I know. It just seems strange.”

Daenerys took his face in her hands. “You’re my king of choice, the king of my heart. I’m not asking you to rule. I’m asking you to stand by my side.”

“And that I will do,” Jon assured her with a chaste kiss. “For now. For always.”


	3. Daenerys II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany searches for answers after a troubling dream leaves her with many questions and a visitor from the south arrives with an ominous message.

**A/N: Welcome to chapter 3! I’d like to apologize for neglecting this fic for so long, but season 7 has given me renewed inspiration. This chapter is from Dany’s POV again. Please review if you feel so inclined. Thanks! -Katie**

 

_The man and the woman stood holding each other for a long time. They gripped one another tightly, hands holding garments in their fists and heads buried against shoulders._

_“I don’t want this to be the last time I see you,” the woman said. The voice was familiar though distant. She was tall, her dark hair flowing halfway down her back._

_“Gods be good it won’t be the last time,” the man replied._

_“But I’ll never call you mine the way she will. After this is all over you’ll return to Winterfell, return to her, not me.”_

_“Please don’t-”_

_“Not that I blame you, of course.”_

_“We haven’t much time. Please don’t return to King’s Landing.”_

_“I have to. I’m a member of the princess’s household. I won’t just leave her as some would.”_

_“It’s not safe.”_

_“The Red Keep is far more secured than home is.”_

_“It is not safe. You should know that.”_

_“I’m no longer a concern of yours,” she said, a hint of bitterness giving her words an unintentional edge._

_“Your safety will always be my concern. I meant what I said in the message I sent with the raven.”_

_She looked away from him and tears filled her violet eyes._

_“You should go.”_

_“I will always protect you...and the child.” He was adamant. “You need to stay safe and be careful. Trust no one, even those you think are friends. If this is the only promise you can ever give to me then please, promise me.”_

_“I promise,” the woman conceded, reaching out to take his hand. “And when this is all over let me see you, even if it’s for the last time. Promise me that, Ned."_

Daenerys awoke with a start, her eyes searching in the darkness and her breath coming in short gasps. It took her several moments to remember where she was and to take in her surroundings. _You’re in Castle Black. Jon is next to you. You’re safe._ Her pounding heart beat like a drum in her head and she closed her eyes once more and steadied her breathing. When she opened her eyes again the room around her came more clearly into focus. The fire was still burning low in the hearth and Ghost lay beside it, red eyes open and looking at her. Somehow it made her feel safer, as if she was not alone even in her dreams. Turning her head, Dany saw Jon sleeping soundly, blissfully unaware of the distress she had been in. It had been just over a month since they’d wed in front of the weirwood tree and now he stayed with her at night more often than not. She was almost certain people knew of their affair, but doubted anyone suspected they had married.

She contemplated waking him and telling him everything that happened, how real it all seemed. How close they were. She dared not. Sleep did not always come easily for him and Dany did not want to disturb him. _What would I tell him? That I believe I saw his father in a dream? What could he say to comfort me?_ She decided she would tell him later. Perhaps in the morning things would be clearer, but she knew that was not likely. She wondered what it was like for Jon to have a wolf dream. He had told her about them, the things he’d seen, what he felt, but it was something she would never be able to experience for herself. As she gazed over at him she wondered if he was having one now, but Ghost was lying by the fire still.

Daenerys crept from the bed, wrapping a robe over her smallclothes, and walked over to the direwolf near the hearth. She lowered herself to the ground beside him and stared into the flames. Without warning or coercion Ghost lifted his head and set in on Dany’s lap. Reaching out, she ran her hand through the snow white fur and scratched lightly behind Ghost’s ear. Had the direwolf sensed that she needed to be comforted? Her dream left her with a profound sense of longing and loss. She had not felt so personally affected by such a dream in a long time. _Was it indeed Ned Stark I saw?_ The man certainly sounded like Jon with a distinguishable Northern accent. Even the way he dressed seemed to be similar. _But the woman..._

The woman was familiar, too but in a different way. She was familiar in the way that an image or a scent or a feeling evoked some part of a distant and undefinable memory. Her eyes were nearly recognizable though. Dany had seen those eyes before when she dreamt of her son Rhaego. She had seen those eyes every time she looked at herself in the reflecting glass. Closing her eyes she willed herself to remember more of the dream, to recall some element she had forgotten, but was unable to do so. Reluctantly, Dany gave the direwolf one final scratch behind his ears and ruffled his white fur before pushing herself off the ground. _In the morning everything will be more clear,_ she told herself. In the morning she would look for answers. 

 

XXXXXXX

“Good morning, Lord Commander,” Daenerys said as she stood in Barristan Selmy’s doorway. She had slept fitfully for the remainder of the night and once Jon had awoken and slipped from her chambers with an all-too-brief kiss, she readied herself and set out on her mission.

“Your Grace,” the old knight said with a bow. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company this morning?”

“I find myself in need of your assistance.”

“Whatever you ask is yours, my queen. You know that. Please come inside and warm yourself.”

“Thank you. I was wondering if you might tell me about Ned Stark.”

“Me? Surely Lord Snow would be able to tell you more about him than I ever could.”

“I’m not asking Jon Snow,” Dany said pointedly. “I’m asking you. Besides, I want to know more about him before.”

“Before, you grace? Forgive me, but before what?”

“I don’t know, that’s part of my problem. Last night I had a dream of him as a young man.”

“You’re certain it was him?”

“Yes...at least I believe it was him. He wore the same battle dress as Lord Snow. He sounded like Lord Snow and there was a woman with him.”

“A woman?”

“And she called him by his first name. I don’t know who she was, but they seemed close.”

“Perhaps she was the Lady Catelyn Stark,” Barristan suggested. “Or maybe his sister Lyanna. They were quite close, I think.”

“I don’t think so,” Dany said. “She seemed sad, as if something had transpired between the two of them and now it was over. ”

“I’m not sure how I can help you.”

“I’m trying to find out why I would dream of Ned Stark. Perhaps if I can find out more about him...if I knew who he was speaking to I might be able to discover the meaning.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know much about him. Our paths usually only crossed on occasion. I spent most of my time wherever your father or brother were. At that time your in your father’s service that meant rarely leaving King’s Landing. One of the last times your father ever left the capital was for the great Tourney of Harrenhal hosted by Lord Whent.”

“And Ned Stark was there?”

“My queen, everyone who was anyone was at that tourney. All of the Stark siblings were there. That tourney changed the history of Westeros.”

“So I’ve been told,” Dany said. “That was when my brother crowned Lyanna Stark the Queen of Love and Beauty. Everyone knows that story.”

“Then I’m not sure what more I can tell you. I’ve told you of the tourney before.”

“You told me about my _brother_ at the tourney. What happened before that? Who was there? I know how the story ends. Viserys always told me that part. Tell me about it from the beginning.”

“You might want to have a seat,” Ser Barristan said, pulling a chair out from the table and motioning for Dany to sit. “I may be an older man now, but I remember that tourney as if it were yesterday. I’m not sure it will be as unbiased as a Maester’s history of it.”

“Ser Barristan, if I wanted to know what the Maesters have written I would have sought out Maester Samwell. I came to you for a reason. Now,” she said settling back in her seat. “Shall we begin?”

Barristan remained standing as he began his tale. “As I said, everyone who was anyone came to the great Tourney Lord Whent hosted. I’ve told you how your brother faired and I think you’re wise enough to have guessed by now that the member of the Kingsguard unhorsed by Rhaegar was me.”

Dany inclined her head. “I may have surmised as much.”

“The joust was only a portion of the event. To this day I have never seen a more lavish tourney. The feasts that followed the day of fighting were just as intriguing, perhaps more so.”

“And who attended these feasts?”

“The lords and ladies all did. Even your father attended. Your brother sang a song on his harp that brought Lyanna Stark to tears. Then there was the dancing. All of the ladies danced, but none so much as Lady Ashara Dayne.”

Barristan paused for a moment and smiled wistfully. “She danced with Jon Connington, her brother Ser Arthur Dayne, Oberyn Martell known as the Red Viper, Ned Stark, and...myself.”

“You? Truly Ser Barristan?”

“Is it really so hard to believe? I was younger once.”

“I do believe you are blushing, Ser,” Dany teased. “What was it about her that made all the men want to dance with her?”

“What draws men to your service? She was young, she was from a noble and ancient house, and she was beautiful.”

“I’m sure you just described many of the women at the tourney. What made her different?”

“She was a lady-in-waiting to Princess Elia and so there were many times I saw her at court. She was a true and loyal friend to the Princess who otherwise might have felt quite alone in King’s Landing. Lady Ashara was also smart and clever. She could easily converse with any of the men who were in the company of Prince Rhaegar. And then there were her eyes.”

“Her eyes? What did they look like?”

“Actually...they looked very much like yours, my Queen,” Barristan admitted. “In fact when I first met you I was taken aback by how much your eyes resembled hers.”

“What did you just say?”

“I beg your pardon, but her eyes were nearly identical to yours. I’ve known and served many Targaryens but none had eyes as violet as yours.”

Dany tried to brush the comment aside. “It seems you were quite taken with her.”

“I was,” the knight smiled sadly. “That I was.”

“Whatever happened to her?”

“The same thing that happened to all of us, the Rebellion broke out. Some of us made it out alive. Some of us didn’t. In the immediate aftermath it was difficult to tell who was lucky and who was unlucky in that regard.”

“And this Ashara Dayne perished?”

“She did. I was badly wounded in the Battle of the Trident, where your brother fell. Robert had mercy on me and sent his own Maesters to tend to me. But it wasn’t until much later that I found out what happened to many of my friends, my brothers in arms, and to Lady Ashara.”

Dany nodded and waited for him to continue..

“I knew before we’d even left Harrenhal that she was smitten with Eddard Stark and he, though reserved, was with her. But whatever love they had for one another was dashed by his brash and stupid older brother Brandon. He was impetuous and rode on King’s Landing when your brother and Lyanna ran off together. It cost him and his father their lives and it cost Ned Stark a future he would never know, for it became his duty to marry Catelyn Tully in Brandon’s stead. He did so, of course he did. He was the most honorable man I ever met and Westeros is a darker place without him.”

“But he fought with the Usurper,” Dany said.

“Aye, he did, and I served Robert when he pardoned me. Your Grace, forgive me, but if I may be so bold?”

“That is what they call you, is it not? Barristan the Bold? Continue, Ser.”

“My queen, you ask not to be judged by the sins of your father. You do not seem to judge Lord Snow by the sins of the only father he knew. It is possible to find honor in an enemy. We were all young and had it been our choice we would not have wanted to take up arms at all. But when a king calls his banners to arms, when your family demands the same it is difficult to do anything but. After King’s Landing fell, Ned Stark found his sister in Dorne. I suppose now we know that it was Lord Snow she gave birth to there and she perished. He slew Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning and the greatest swordsman I ever knew to get to her. When it was over he had the grace to return his greatsword Dawn to Starfall before returning home to Winterfell. It was sometime after his visit that Lady Ashara took her own life. She jumped from a tower into the sea. Rumors spread throughout Westeros as to why it happened. Many, including Cersei Lannister believed she was the mother of Jon Snow and she killed herself when Ned Stark took him away from her. Some said it was over the grief of losing her dear brother. Others still that her child had been stillborn and a girl. I suppose given what we know now that could be true. All I was told was that the sea took her body and it was never recovered.”

Dany watched Ser Barristan with sad eyes and a heavy heart. There was so much she did not know about the history of Westeros, so much that Viserys had told her but he was a cruel liar who filled her head with many untruths. The truth of Robert’s Rebellion was messy and tragic, not just for her family but for all of Westeros. Even after it was over it left rifts upon the land and people that had still yet to heal. War did not discern between the innocent and the guilty. It took whatever life it pleased and made no apologies for it.

“Thank you, Ser Barristan,” Dany said sincerely. “For your story, for your wisdom and council as well.”

“Truth be told, I’m surprised you asked me.”

“Why is that?”

“I suppose I only assumed that if you wanted to know the truth of something you would ask the young Three-Eyed Raven. Surely he could give you a more clear answer than an old man.”

“Perhaps,” Dany nodded. “But he could not give me your sincerity. Besides, I still feel using his powers for such means is...dangerous.”

“The truth often is, Your Grace.”

XXXXXXX

Daenerys left Ser Barristan believing even more firmly that it had been Ned Stark she dreamed about and, apparently, Lady Ashara Dayne. _But why? Is it a warning? A glimpse into the past like my dreams of the house with the red door and a lemon tree?_ She could not be certain. She only knew that her dreams had a habit of coming true. So lost in thought was she that she barely noticed Melisandre walking towards her.

“My queen,” the red woman said with a bow.

“Melisandre,” Dany replied, pulling her cloak around her body against the wind. “I must say, this comes as a surprise. What has brought you back to Castle Black?”

“Visions, as always, Your Grace.”

“Visions?”

Seeing Melisandre at Castle Black put Daenerys further on edge. It was true that she had welcomed the priestess of R’hllor to Dragonstone just a year ago when she hailed her as the Princess that was Promised. _That seems like a lifetime ago_ , Dany thought. Since then her opinion had changed greatly. Jon had told her everything she had done in the name of prophecy and her Lord of Light. _That poor girl. She was little more than a child._

“The time has come. You have drunk from the cup of ice, from the cup of fire.”

“Your visions have told you this?”

 _The words from the House of the Undying,_ Dany thought. _It cannot be._ What had the voices said then in Qarth? _Drink from the cup of ice….drink from the cup of fire...mother of dragons, child of three...mother of dragons, child of storm...mother of dragons, daughter of death...mother of dragons, slayer of lies...mother of dragons, bride of fire._ Years later she was still unsure of what that had meant.

“You know of what I speak. You have heard it as well,” Melisandre said with a knowing smile. “Your actions have sealed your fate, my Queen. Yours...and that of your dynasty. The fires have shown this to me.”

“Your fires do not scare me,” Dany replied more defensively than she had intended. “I was reborn amidst fire and smoke. I am the blood of the dragons. Do not forget that. I recognize that you have traveled far and so I will allow you to stay the night at Castle Black, but you must be gone in the morning.”

“Yes, my queen,” Melisandre said with grave understanding. She bowed and turned to take her leave.

“If I were you I would take to your rooms now,” Daenerys called. “If Lord Snow or Ser Davos were to see you here I doubt even I could protect you from their ire.”

XXXXXXX

Dany smiled to herself when she heard the door creak open and saw Jon appear along with a gust of wind and snow with Ghost close on his heels.

“It’s a good thing we went before the weirwood tree when we did,” Jon said, shaking the snow from his cloak and hanging it next to the door. “We’d have never made it on a night like this.”

“Is it that bad?” she asked, holding her hand out to Ghost and letting him nuzzle it before he settled down in front of the fire.”

“Bad enough,” he replied. “Seems to be getting worse. I thought you’d have retired already.”

“I wanted to wait for you. I doubt I would have slept anyway.”

“Why’s that?”

Jon knelt next to the chair she sat in near the fire. She reached out and took his hand in her own.

“I had a dream last night.”

“A nightmare?”

“No,” she shook her head. “Not exactly, but it troubled me just the same. Oh, and the Red Priestess has returned.”

“Melisandre?” Jon nearly scoffed. “Why?”

“I don’t know, but I suspect she knows something.”

“What makes you say that?”

“She spoke of visions. She told me that my actions have sealed my fate. ‘Yours,’ she said. ‘And that of your dynasty.’ She told me that I had drunk from the cup of ice and from the cup of fire.”

“She hasn’t lost her touch for the dramatics has she now?”

“Jon.”

“Sorry. What does that mean? Cup of ice, cup of fire…”

“I don’t know,” Dany admitted and pulled the furs tighter around her shoulders. Despite wearing a robe over her nightdress and sitting in front of the fire she still felt a chill run through her. “Those words...I’ve heard them before. In the House of the Undying in Qarth. Jon, I think she knows.”

“Knows what?”

“About us. About the babe. She told me ‘the dawn is coming’.”

“The dawn?” Jon asked. “The end of the long night? The end of winter?”

Dany shook her head. “I don’t know. It filled me with such unease though.”

“Didn’t she admit that prophecy can be hard to interpret?”

“Are you saying you believe in prophecy now?” Dany teased.

“I don’t know,” Jon admitted. “If _we_ are the prince or princess that was promised we’re meant to bring the dawn. To what? Fight the Night King? The child isn’t even born yet.”

“ _If_ the supposed dawn is a person and _if_ it is our child maybe they won’t have to fight,” Dany said, a realization forming in her mind. “What is the dawn? I mean, literally, what is it?”

“Daybreak?” Jon ventured.

“The beginning of a new day,” she nodded. “Perhaps it is a symbol of a new beginning, just as we are a new beginning. A new alliance.”

“You really believe that?”

“I want to believe it. Don’t you? Don’t you want the war to end?”

“Of course I do, but when it ends it will be because of actions, not prophecies.”

“Why can’t it be both? I believe we were brought together for a reason. I know that every step I’ve taken has led me here.”

Jon sighed and brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them. “Aye,” he agreed.

“You’re my king,” she said simply, leaning forward so their foreheads touched. “King of the North, King of my heart, the only king I could want beside me on the Iron Throne.”

“Is that an order, my Queen?” His nose brushed against her own, nuzzling her ever so slightly just before he kissed her.

“More like a proclamation. I want to announce our marriage.”

“Daenerys…”

“Jon,” she said, looking into his eyes. “You’re my husband. I’m tired of pretending every time we’re not alone. I’m sure half of Castle Black already suspects. Missandei, Irri, and Jhiqui know and I’m sure Barristan does as well, though he would never say so. Jorah may know as well. Soon enough people will know I’m with child. I’d rather not have rumors spread.”

“Nor I,” Jon agreed. “People will talk. They’ll say you married a bastard.”

“Let them talk. Let them bring their complaints directly to me. There isn’t another man in the world more worthy to sit beside me, to rule alongside me. If they cannot see that after everything you’ve done, everything you’ve sacrificed, then they are blind fools.”

“When were you thinking about announcing this?”

“At tomorrow’s council meeting. I see little reason to delay. And we can send a raven to Winterfell and King’s Landing as well.”

“I’m not sure Sansa, Arya, and Bran would appreciate such news coming from a raven,” Jon said thoughtfully. “Perhaps I should tell them in person.”

“Perhaps we should tell them together. The south is safer than the north. The Night King’s army is greatly reduced and hasn’t been seen in weeks. We won’t be gone long.”

“We’ll take the dragons?”

“At least two of them. One could remain to guard Castle Black.”

Jon nodded slowly and Dany could tell he was weighing the possibilities in his mind. She saw little he could object to. After all, it was him who had suggested to her that she should perhaps stay at Winterfell before they were married when she had told him she was with child. Selfishly, she did not want to be away from him more than she needed to be, but if they went together the idea was more appealing. Of course, Jon was right. It would be more prudent to tell the Starks in person.

“Do you think Bran already knows?” Dany asked.

“I do,” Jon replied. “That night, we saw the other wolf near the Haunted Forest. I think it was Summer. It’s possible, maybe even probable, that Bran had warged into him. Whether or not her would tell Sansa and Arya is uncertain.”

“I know they’re sisters to you and I hope, in time, they’ll come to see me as a sister as well. It’s decided. We’ll go and tell them together.”

“It’s a good thing I agree with you because you’re damn near impossible to say no to when you are so logical about matters.”

Dany laughed and placed her arms on Jon’s shoulders as she lifted herself up out of the chair.

“You’re wrong,” she smiled, taking his hand once more as he stood from his knees and led him towards the bed they shared.

“You’re not the the first person to tell me that,” he said, catching her about the waist and pulling her in close. “But tell me, Dany. What am I wrong about?”

“I’m not just impossible to say no to when I’m logical. I’m _always_ impossible for you to say no to.”  
XXXX

Much later that night, Dany gazed up into the dark above the bed and listened to the soothing rhythmic sound of Jon’s breathing. He had fallen asleep quickly, a protective arm draped across her body and her head tucked under his chin. Not long after he drifted off she realized that she had forgotten to tell him about her dream and why it had troubled her so. She wanted to tell him, wanted to ask him questions in the hope of finding an answer and yet...and yet she worried it would be a bother, a hindrance and distraction to him.

Soon enough they would be in Winterfell again. As much as Bran’s mysterious powers were cause for consternation to her, Dany knew that he might be able to help her fill in the missing pieces. He could provide the insight she was looking for, he might already know the answers she sought.

 _Yes_ , Dany deciding burrowing further under the furs and into Jon’s embrace. _When I have more answers then I will tell him. He carries more cares and worries as it is._


	4. Jon II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Daenerys share the news of their marriage with those closest to them.

**A/N: Here’s Chapter 4 and Jon’s second POV chapter! I’d like to thank everyone for the reviews and comments. As a reminder, I started this fic before it became canon that Lyanna and Rhaegar were married before Jon was born. I had always intended on keeping Jon a bastard, although the son of two people who** **_did_ ** **love one another. Since this story has already veered from that of the show I don’t have any intention of changing that. I know that might have been a bit confusing given the events of the show. Please read, enjoy, and review! Thank you! ~Katie**

  
  
  


“And so with that I believe our best plan of action is to stay the course,” Jon said definitively. “The Night King has not attacked in months. Some Freefolk have returned to their homes North of the Wall. He might know he’s outmatched.” 

“Your grace,” Ser Jorah spoke up, addressing his queen when Jon sat down. “The longer we delay in the North, the longer you’re away from King’s Landing. Surely this is a matter that can now be handled by the Night’s Watch and the Warden of the North.” 

“I will return to King’s Landing when we know the Night King is defeated,” Dany said evenly. “I will remain in the north, with the King in the North.” 

Jon’s head snapped up to look at Daenerys as a rumble of low voices echoed through the common hall. They had agreed to announce their marriage to the small council, but he did not imagine she would do so in such a way. 

“My lords and my friends,” Dany said, regaining the attention of the members of the small council. “I have decided to restore the title of King in the North to Jon Snow. I can think of no more appropriate title for my King and husband. I came to Westeros knowing that alliances would be the key to my success in uniting the Seven Kingdoms and to restore peace to our war torn realm. Never did I imagine I would be so fortunate to also find love through such an alliance.”

“Your Grace,” Davos began rising to his feet. “Allow me to be the first to offer the heartiest of congratulations to you and the King. And if you’ll allow me to say so, I think it would be difficult to find one among us who didn’t already know that you were fond of each other.” 

“I will permit it, Ser Davos,” Dany replied. “Just this once.” 

Jorah rose to his feet next and Jon braced himself for what he might say. He had no disdain for the man and though he was certain that Mormont knew of his feelings for Daenerys, Jon knew that the news probably came as a shock to one of her oldest advisors. He also knew that no matter what oaths he and Dany had spoken in front of a Weirwood tree, Jorah would love and serve her until the day he died. 

“May the gods bless and keep the both of you,” Jorah said raising a cup. “And may we be victorious in battle so that the Seven Kingdoms may see your prosperous reign. To Daenerys Stormborn and the King in the North.”

Chairs scraped across the floor as the other members of the small council stood and lifted their cups, toasting Jon and his new wife. 

“To Daenerys Stormborn and the King in the North,” the room echoed. 

  
XXXXX

“You didn’t tell them about the babe,” Jon said, latching the door to Dany’s room behind him and walking over to where she stood near a taper, using it’s glow to illuminate the message in her hand. 

“No,” she replied over her shoulder, taking her eyes from the parchment she was reading. “Missandei knows anyway and I thought it was enough information for one day. It’s still early yet. We’ll tell everyone when it becomes noticeable.” 

“It’s noticeable,” Jon said, sliding his hand across the small swell of her belly. 

“Not yet,” she insisted a bit more firmly this time and Jon noticed something change in her eyes when she looked up at him. It lasted for the briefest of moments, but it was there. It was real and it was something he had never seen before. Fear.  _ Of what? _ he wondered, but could not hope to know and just as quickly as it appeared it was gone again. A softness returned to her eyes and a sly smile played on her lips. 

“ _ You _ notice it because you get to see me like this,” she gestured to her simple grey dress. “See me without all of the heavy furs you Northerners must drape yourselves in.” 

“Aye,” he conceded with a nod. He moved closer to her and his warm breath danced across her temple. “And I get to see you in even less than this.” 

“Jon Snow…” 

To anyone else, her tone would have been a warning. To him, it was a challenge. An invitation. 

“I believe that’s King in the North, isn’t it?” 

“No,” Dany shook her head. 

“No?” 

“Not King in the North. Not to me. Just  _ my _ King.” 

“Your king then,” Jon said decidedly. “Always yours.” 

He tilted her face up to kiss him and she turned in his arms. Jon could feel the the small mound of her stomach as it pressed against him and it made his desire for her grow even more. 

“I should be giving orders to ready our things for Winterfell,” he said against her lips. “Tell Edd and the brothers of the Watch we’re leaving.” 

“Always duty first,” Dany chided him playfully. “I believe your duty is first to your queen, and to your wife.” 

“And what does my queen and wife desire?” 

“You know.” 

Jon swore her eyes became a deeper shade of purple and he let her easily push him back into a chair. She carefully straddled him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Jon was not a selfish man, but he enjoyed knowing that there were sides to Daenerys that were meant only for him to see. His hands moved to her hips and held them tightly, nearly grunting as she ground down against his growing hardness. Leaning forward he captured her lips with his own as he worked quickly to lift her skirt out of the way and free himself from his leather breeches. With a quick thrust he was inside her and Dany sighed into his mouth. 

He lifted her hips with ease, setting a frenzied pace as she rode his cock. Her head fell back and he used the opportunity to kiss her neck, sucking at her pulse point and eliciting a breathy moan from her kiss-swollen lips. She was close, he could tell.  _ So much more sensitive now,  _ he thought. He did not pretend to know everything about the changes their child had upon her body, but he knew it did not douse her desire for him.  _ Quite the opposite, really _ . A month or so from now the position they were in would, no doubt, be impossible. As it was, her belly still fit, albeit snugly, between the two of them as a reminder of their love for one another. 

“Jon,” Dany gasped as she came, her entire body holding and grasping him so tightly, enveloping him in liquid heat and causing him to jerk involuntarily as he spilled his seed within her. He stopped moving, easing his grip on her hips and wrapping his arms around her frame to keep her close. 

He rested his forehead against hers and slowly her breath upon his face became regular enough for him to steal a quick kiss. Her forearms rested on his shoulders as she pushed herself back just enough for them to gaze at one another. 

“What was it you were saying you had to do?” Dany asked him. 

“Can’t remember anymore,” Jon shrugged, but he knew he could not stay in her embrace all afternoon. Perhaps someday that might be possible. He remembered something she had said to him not very long ago. She promised him that there would be a day when she would wake up in his arms and would not fear him needing to be gone. Unfortunately, that day had not yet come. 

“Come, there’s much to be done before we leave tomorrow,” she said, patting his leather doublet. “You’d better get to work, Jon Snow.” 

“I would, but I feel as though I am quite your prisoner right now.” 

XXXXX

“You’re  _ married _ ?” Sansa asked incredulously, looking between Jon and Daenerys and then to Bran. “Did you know about this.” 

“You know I won’t answer that,” the younger brother replied. 

Jon had honestly expected nothing less from his sister. Telling Daenerys’s small council and the brothers of the Night’s Watch had been easier than coming home to Winterfell and telling his family. No sooner had their party landed at Winterfell on the backs of Drogon ad Rhaegal than Jon and  Daenerys were dining with the Stark siblings while their attendants handled the care of settling themselves in. At the end of the meal Jon bluntly announced the news to Sansa, Arya, and Bran. It was true enough that the Northern lords had all bent the knee to Daenerys. They had fought and died for her in the war against Cersei just as much as any other region of Westeros, but a marriage was different. It was personal and he expected there to be some hard feelings. 

“Sansa we came to Winterfell to tell you in person. We didn’t want to just send a raven,” Jon tried to explain. He knew she was upset, not about who he had wed, but that she and her siblings had not been told about it sooner. 

“We could have been there,” Arya agreed, though she was clearly less upset. “We could have been there for you or you could have been married here in the Godswood.” 

“We were married in front of a weirwood tree,” Daenerys offered from her seat next to Jon. “And I’m sorry you all had to find out after the fact, but I’m also not sorry. I’m not sorry because I love your brother.”

“You love him and yet you selfishly had a marriage ceremony in private with none of his family present,” the Lady of Winterfell fumed. “We’re at war and yet the two of you decided to have a little wedding in the midst of it?” 

“Sansa,” Jon started, his voice edged with warning when Daenerys held up a hand for silence and stood from her chair. 

“I understand your hurt feelings, my lady sister. We are not so different, you and I. I thought we came to that conclusion the last time I visited you at Winterfell on my way to Castle Black. We have both been a part of marriages that were not of our choosing. We’ve both experienced the pain and loneliness that comes from that. I love Jon. He is my king of choice and I know how quickly those we love can be taken from us.” 

Jon watched as his sister’s demeanor changed, the icy anger fading away and he was grateful for it. Growing up together, his sister had not always been kind to him. Most days she barely acknowledged him at all. She took after her mother in that way, but that was a lifetime ago. They were both different people, changed and shaped by the experiences they had endured. He could not fault her for the actions she made as a child. For a time, they thought it possible they were the only Starks left. How relieved they were to have been wrong about that. 

“We didn’t do this to hurt any of you,” Jon said looking around at the only siblings he’d ever known. “We wanted to wed, but Sansa is right. We’re at war. A celebration wouldn’t seem right.” 

“But there’s more,” Bran spoke up and Jon realized his brother was holding Dany’s gaze. “Isn’t there?” 

The room was silent as the Three Eyed Raven regarded the Queen of Westeros. Jon often wondered how much his brother knew and just how he came upon that knowledge. The details and magic behind his abilities mystified Jon. He knew that he could look into the past and present, but that the knowledge did not come to him instantaneously. Now it was clear to him that Bran knew that Daenerys was with child. He wanted to tell his family the truth so that they would at least know that much before anyone else, but it was not just his secret to tell. Even as his wife glanced over to him the look he returned reassured her that she could decide when and how to announce their happy news. 

“Yes,” Dany said, clearing her throat. “There is more. I’m with child.” 

“How?” Sansa asked. “When we spoke the last time you were here…” 

“Sansa if you don’t know how that happens then you’ve got a lot to learn,” Arya quipped. 

“Shut up.” 

“Both of you stop,” Jon interjected. “To answer your question, we don’t know. My best guess is that the maegi who told Daenerys that lied to her out of spite. Nevertheless, the child is coming.” 

“When?” Sansa asked. 

“In a little less than four month’s time,” Dany replied. 

“No wonder you passed on the fish at supper.” 

"Yes, some food doesn’t sit well with me now. Just ask Jon.” 

“I can certainly attest to that,” he replied with a knowing grin. 

“We are happy for you,” Arya offered. “For the both of you. And I for one pledge to do anything I can to protect Daenerys and her child.” 

“Thank you, Arya. Our last scouting mission North of the Wall didn’t provide us with much new information about the Night King’s whereabouts.” 

“You think he’s fled back into the Land of Always Winter?” 

“Possibly. Or he’s waiting and biding his time.” 

“Are you on your way back to King’s Landing?” Sansa asked Daenerys. 

“No,” the queen shook her head. “This trip was solely to tell you of our marriage. I have no intention of leaving the North until the Night King is defeated.” 

“Dany has agreed that if we perceive the situation to be increasingly dangerous she will come to Winterfell.” 

“Winterfell is yours, your Grace,” Sansa said “Whenever you have need of it, for as long as you have need of it.” 

XXXXX

Tucked inside the walls of Winterfell, Jon could almost forget there was a war going on.  _ Almost _ . He could scarcely remember a time when the air was not clipped with cold. Even inside Dany’s chambers at Castle Black, all hung with cloth and fabrics from Essos there was no real or lasting warmth. When they would wake each morning and the fire had died out, the cold reclaimed and filled every void. 

Winterfell was different. The hot springs it was built upon meant that warm water was piped through the walls and chambers alike. Their journey from the Wall had not been overly long, but it was bitterly cold. He thought Dany would almost leap for joy when Sansa suggested a warm bath to chase the chill from her bones. He was less than surprised to find her already curled up in bed asleep, not even the sound of the heavy wood door closing behind him had awakened her. 

In the glow of the fire and candlelight Daenerys was ethereal. He never would have thought that the Dragon Queen who spent most of her life in Essos could look so at home at Winterfell and so, dare her say, at peace. 

Jon lived for moments like this. For Dany, winning the war against the Night King meant being able to truly begin her rule. He did not fault her that. For Jon, however, defeating the Night King meant being able to start his life. It was true that the Red Priestess had raised him from the dead, but Daenerys had brought him back to life. As he watched her sleep, taking in the gentle rise and fall of her shoulders, he noticed the way she lovingly cradled the new life within her, the life  _ they _ had created against all odds. 

In different ways, they had both thought the notion of bringing a child into the world was impossible. Dany believed the words of the witch held real power. Perhaps they did, perhaps they did not. Who was he to tell? For his part, Jon had taken an oath, a solemn vow pledging to take no wives and father no sons.  _ Well here we are _ , he thought as he tucked a strand of hair behind his wife’s ear. Every day the words of Maester Aemon echoed through his head.  _ What is honor compared to a woman's love? What is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms? _ He had loved before, it was true, and he had never expected to fall in love again especially after his death and resurrection. He had told the Red Woman not to bring him back if he fell again and now he could not imagine leaving everything he had gained behind. He would do anything to always stand beside Daenerys and ensure that she held their child in her arms. 

Growing up, he had no ambition to rule, no desire for power or even to be a great lord. He wanted to prove his worth. To prove that being a bastard did not matter. Now, he had tasted it all. Power and strength. He was made a Lord Commander and a King. He was good at it, but it was not something he asked for or wanted, but he would readily rule beside Daenerys if that was what she asked of him. They complimented one another well. His wife ruled impulsively at times, thinking first with her heart, rather than her head. Jon was logical and thorough if nothing else and somehow even from the very early days of their alliance Dany would listen to and heed Jon’s advice.  _ Maybe we’re meant to rule together, _ he thought. 

Try as he might to resist it, Jon could not help but believe that fate played a role in bringing him and Daenerys together. After all, they had both endured so much to be where they were now. He remembered the day she told him about her brother practically selling her off to Drogo, how they had both hurt her, but how she grew to love her husband in the end. He thought of Ygritte. He was not supposed to fall in love with her. He had never meant to and yet he did. Part of Jon hated Drogo, not because Dany had loved him first, but because he knew Dany was still haunted by the choices she made which ultimately cost her the life of her son. It was much easier for Jon to blame Drogo. 

He reached out a hand and gently placed it just above hers on her stomach. She had told him that she could feel their child move within her, though he had yet to be able to feel it for himself. 

“Your son is sleeping,” Dany murmured, her voice thick with sleep. “Just as your wife is trying to do. How long are you going to sit there staring at me?” 

“I’m sorry. I thought you were fast asleep,” Jon said and made to move his hand, but Daenerys held it in place as she rolled on her back. 

“Leave it. Maybe if he knows I’m awake he’ll move for you.” 

“He?”  

“What?”

“First you said,  _ your son _ and then you called it a  _ he _ .” 

“Oh,” Dany smiled and rubbed at her eyes. “Call it my intuition, but I think it will be a boy.” 

“Not a girl as fierce as her mother?” 

“A boy this time. A girl next time.” 

“Next time?” 

“Don’t you want more children? Don’t you dream of it?” 

“Honestly?” Jon asked, taking a deep breath and lying down next to her. “Sometimes, all I can think about is ending this war. Before I was in the Watch I didn’t think about having a child because I didn’t want to father a bastard like me. My father loved me, but I can’t say I lived an easy life. Then, when I was in the Watch there wasn’t much to think about. So, you see, I never really allowed myself to believe I’d have a child, let alone more than one. But...if I had to think upon it, I’d say yes. I want our boy to have sisters as beautiful as his mother and maybe a little brother, too.” 

“Our little dynasty,” Dany mused, letting her fingers absentmindedly play with Jon’s beard. “After Rhaego, I spent so long thinking this was impossible, but that didn’t stop me from dreaming of it. Now I know it’s possible. My dreams can come true. When I was a little girl I didn’t dream of sitting on the Iron Throne.”

“No?” Jon chortled, pulling her closer and resting his chin atop her head. 

“Quite the opposite. I had an elder brother who would have been king. Maybe I would have married him, but I certainly didn’t dream of that either. I wanted a home. A family. Now I have both.” 

“Hopefully sooner rather than later you’ll be able to return home to King’s Landing.” 

“King’s Landing isn’t my home,” Dany shook her head. “I think I realized it the night you returned from your scouting mission, when I told you I was pregnant, that I realized home isn’t a place. It’s a feeling. I feel home with you, Jon.” 

He dipped his head and kissed her gently. 

“These wars have taken so much from so many and yet...in a strange way they’ve changed my life so much. What is it about tragedies that bring people together? Growing up I was close with Robb and with Arya. Even with Bran, but not with Sansa.” 

“Was she cruel to you?” 

“She just never paid me any attention. She’s very much like her mother. She never treated me like Robb, Bran, or Rickon. She just didn’t care. We’ve all grown and changed in a short time. We’re a closer family now.” 

“I know you would do anything for them, to protect them.” 

“Arya doesn’t need protecting anymore.” 

“You know what I mean.” 

“Aye,” Jon smiled. “And I’d do anything to protect you, whether you need it or not.” 

“I know,” Dany nodded. 

“No, you don’t. Now more than ever we need to end this war. The Night King must be defeated. He’s waiting for us to leave, I know he is. The moment we pull back from the North and leave it unguarded he’ll attack and try to rebuild his army. He’s nearly alone, but he’s no less dangerous.” 

“What are you saying?” 

“I want to go back North of the Wall. I want to find him and kill him. I want to end this.” 

Daenerys was silent for a few beats, no doubt processing everything Jon had just said. 

“Alright,” she said at length. “We’ll return to Castle Black, raise our army, take the dragons and fly north to-.” 

“No, Dany,” Jon interrupted. “Not  _ we _ .” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“You’re not coming with me.” 

“Jon,” she pulled away from him and he felt the full force of her gaze upon him. 

“Dany, listen to me.” 

He reached for her but she pulled away even further, pushing herself from under the covers and off the bed. Her sudden movements caused Ghost to stir at the foot of the bed and lift his head. 

“No.  _ You _ listen. I will not let you do this alone. These are my people. This is my country. I have to fight for them.” 

“You’re right,” Jon conceded, standing on the opposite side of the bed. “This is your country. These are  _ your _ people and you need to be  _ alive _ to lead them.” 

“If you plan to take Drogon, you’ll need me.” 

“I plan to take Rhaegal. You might have use of Drogon. If I fall-.” 

“Don’t!” Dany began, her voice rising as she held up a shaking finger to silence him. “Don’t you dare.” 

Jon slowly walked around the bed and stood in front of her. Barefoot, with her silver-blonde hair cascading in unbraided waves over her shoulders , and in her lilac nightdress she looked vulnerable, scared. He could tell that his words had wounded her, perhaps even frightened her. He held out his hand and patiently waited until she reluctantly offered her own in return. 

“If I fall,” he said softly, lacing their fingers together. “Take Drogon and go to Dragonstone. That’s your best chance. All would not be lost. So long as you’re alive and safe and our child is alive and safe there is a chance.” 

“ _ I  _ would be lost.” 

“No, you wouldn’t be. You’d only be lost if you didn’t go on. You don’t need saving Daenerys. You never have and I doubt you ever will. 

Dany pulled him close and wrapped her arms tightly around him. After a few moments he felt her nod against his chest. 

“Very well,” she finally said, her voice choked with reluctance. “But you won’t fall. You can’t. As your queen, I forbid it.” 

“Well then, Jon replied, tilting her chin up to meet her gaze. “I live to serve you, my Queen.” 


	5. Daenerys III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys seeks Bran's help to find answers to the questions she's been plagued with since before arriving at Winterfell.

**A/N: This is Dany’s third POV. This is probably the hardest chapter I’ve written for this story and I think by the end you’ll understand why. Thank you to everyone who has left reviews and comments. They mean so much! Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy! -Katie**

  
  


The vastness of Winterfell never ceased to amaze Daenerys. She was not sure what she had expected the first time she visited, but the sprawling castle complex and its surroundings had taken her by surprise. She walked through the Godswood alone, save for two Dothraki guards who followed her at a distance. By now they knew when to give their queen the space she desired. Trees of ash, hawthorn, oak, ironwood, sentinel, and soldier pine dotted the forest, as snow shrikes sang above her, but it was the ancient weirdwood, the heart tree she sought out. 

She had excused herself once she finished her breakfast, leaving Jon alone with his sisters. They had spent so much time apart that she thought they deserved some time alone to discuss anything they might now wish to bring up in front of her. It was difficult, at times, to watch them together. Jon had been close with some of his siblings growing up. She had never known what that was like. She had been close to Viserys out of necessity, not affection, and Dany often felt undue pangs of jealousy at the easy way the Stark siblings fell back in line with each other. 

In truth, Missandei was the closest thing she had to a sister. She trusted her above almost everyone else and she was one of the few people Dany knew she could speak freely to, especially when they were alone. They talked about their hopes, fears, and dreams for a better world that might one day come when the Long Night was over. 

Perhaps she had spent too much time in the North, but Dany did not seem to mind the cold anymore. She had grown used to it. It made her feel strong. The cold as Winterfell was nothing compared to the cold atop the Wall and beyond. There, the wind crept inside everytime she opened her mouth and stole her breath away. At Winterfell, the cold was calmer, less harsh and there was always the promise of a bath at the end of the day to warm her and soothe her tired muscles. 

The heart tree loomed before her in the wood, tall and pale. But for the crimson color of its leaves the tree might have been able to blend into the snowy surroundings. Sitting beside it, as she had hoped and expected, was Bran. Dany made her way over to him and waited for him to acknowledge her, though he never did. To be disregarded by any other person might have made Dany cross, but Bran was different and, after all, she had come to seek his help.  

“You probably know why I was looking for you,” she said at length when the silence grew too long. 

“It doesn’t exactly like work like that,” Bran said with a small smile that turned slightly sad. “I don’t seek out information like that, not in the present anyway. People don’t understand what a burden this can be. I didn’t ask for this...this gift.” 

“But you were chosen for it,” Dany pointed out. “They chose the right person.”

“It’s fascinating and terrifying at the same time. Sometimes I feel like it is a curse.” 

“But would you be able to help me? Help me look into my past. There is so much that I don’t know, so many memories that are blurred for me. I know next to nothing about my mother, save for that she died when I was born and my brother never forgave me for it.” 

“What you’re asking isn’t without its risks and dangers.”  

“I’m willing to take the risk, whatever the cost. I’ve…” she paused and glanced down at her gloved hands, searching for the right words. “I’ve been having dreams...maybe visions and I need to know why. Only you can help me. Please.” 

It was not a request, it was a plea. Bran held her gaze for a moment, perhaps willing her to change her mind. Reluctantly, he placed his hand on the ancient weirwood tree and his eyes seemed to fall back into his head, showing only the terrifying blankness of the whites of his eyes. Dany had never witnessed one of Bran’s greenseeing visions and the sight frightened her. It suddenly seemed colder around her and though Bran was close to her, she felt quite alone. 

The thought to wake or interrupt him entered Dany’s mind, but a yearning for the truth stayed her hands and she clasped them together tightly to keep from reaching out. 

“Bran,” she whispered tentatively after minutes passed, glancing about to see if anyone else was around them. There was no one save for the Dothraki, dutifully keeping guard from a distance. She was not even sure he could hear her when he was looking into the past. 

Almost as if he sensed her growing fear and discomfort Bran took a deep breath and his eyes returned to normal. He sat motionless- silent- save for the gasps of breath he was taking to regain his composure. He turned his face towards Dany, looked at her blankly and then looked away. She did not know Bran well, not even as well as she knew Sansa and Arya, but she never knew him to be uncertain, especially when it came to his abilities. He was generally blunt, to the point, and straightforward. 

“Your grace, I…” he began, and it did not go unnoticed that he reverted back to formally addressing her, despite her request that he and his sisters do otherwise. 

“You saw something, didn’t you?” 

“Yes,” he swallowed. “Many things. You mother is not Rhaella Targaryen. Your mother is Ashara Dayne.” 

Dany felt as if she was under water. She could see Bran’s lips moving, but his words seemed muffled. Surely, she had misheard him. Surely, he had not understood what he saw in his vision. It was impossible, unacceptable even.  _ And yet… _ a voice from deep within her knew that what he said was true. There was so much she needed to know, so many questions rushing through her head. 

“Tell me everything,” she said evenly. 

“Daenerys, I don’t know-” 

“ _ Everything _ you saw.” 

“I saw the Tourney at Harrenhal,” Bran began. “Ashara Dayne was there as lady-in-waiting to Princess Elia. She was beautiful, more beautiful than the rest. Every man wanted to dance with her, but few men had the chance. Oberyn Martell, Jon Connington, Barristan Selmy, too. He was in love with her.”

“He’s the one who first told me of her, after my dream.” Daenerys noticed how Bran’s vision matched what Barristan had told her. 

“And she danced with my father. They spent all night talking. When they parted after the tourney they were both in love.” 

“In love?” 

“It was her undoing. Not long after the tourney and the False Spring, your father, the Mad King, burned my grandfather and killed my uncle. He called for Jon Arryn to bring him my father’s head, but Arryn refused. In his anger, Aerys flew into a rage and raped Ashara, having seen her dance with Ned Stark at Harrenhal and having overheard her telling Princess Elia about him.” 

“That...that cannot be true,” Dany sputtered. “Your vision was wrong. I was born during a great Summer storm to Rhaella Targaryen on Dragonstone.” 

“My visions never lie. You were born at Starfall, the ancient seat of House Dayne, to Lady Ashara. You never set foot on Dragonstone until your ships arrived there from Essos.” 

Dany recalled landing on Dragonstone. She remembered telling Tyrion and Varys that she always imagined it would have felt like a homecoming, but it did not feel like home. 

“My father sent word to your mother,” Bran continued. “He warned her to flee King’s Landing before it was sacked. After the war he found my aunt, Lyanna, dying from giving birth to Jon. He promised to care for him as his own. In order to reach her in the Tower of Joy he had to slay the Sword of the Morning, Ashara’s brother, Arthur Dayne. He wielded the greatsword Dawn. My father took Dawn back to Starfall and found that your mother had given birth to you.

“He knew that Robert, having slain Rhaegar on the Trident, would never let you live if he found you and so he helped you and your mother escape by boat to Sunspear. For a Targaryen, the sea was less treacherous than the land and was less likely to betray than a man who knew what a dead Targaryen babe was worth.” 

“Why Sunspear?” 

“Despite Rhaegar slighting Elia, Dorne and the Martells were still loyal to the Targaryens. You stayed with your mother and grew up in anonymity near the Water Gardens. Fittingly so, as they were made for the first Daenerys who was married to Maron Martell. You lived in a large house with-”

“A red door,” Dany finished and Bran nodded. 

“You remember.” 

“That’s all. I would run in the grass and play in the water. There was a lemon tree, but that...that was in Braavos.” 

“Lemons don’t grow in Braavos. It was very near Sunspear.” 

“How did I end up with Viserys?” 

“Your mother and the Martells knew the older you became, the harder you would be to hide. Oberyn Martell himself delivered you to Viserys and Willem Darry in Braavos. While he was there, Oberyn and Darry signed a pact betrothing Viserys to Arianne Martell. You remained with Viserys from that time on.” 

“And whatever happened to Ashara Dayne? Is my mother dead? Is she alive?” 

“She’s alive,” Bran said. “Although you’ve known her by another name. Quaithe, I believe.” 

“That’s enough,” Dany replied, lifting her hand to silence him. Even that small gesture seemed to take great effort. She turned to leave, to be anywhere else, to have time to process everything he had just told her. 

“Where are you going?” 

“I don’t know. I just need to be alone.” 

XXXXX

The Targaryens burned their dead. The reasoning why had been lost over the years, summed up as tradition. Now, in a world where the dangers of reanimation by the White Walkers was a reality, cremation seemed practical, logical, and necessary. They had even burned Cersei Lannister's body when she was found dead of  _ mysterious _ circumstances by her brother Jaime after Dany’s armies had defeated the Lannister forces and she had taken King’s Landing. The concept of burying the dead the way many Great Houses in Westeros such as the Starks did was foreign to Dany. The first time Jon had shown her the crypts was almost unsettling for reasons that she could not quite explain. 

She was not entirely sure how she ended up down there, but she stared up at the cold stone statue of Ned Stark. She remembered someone telling her that it did not look like him, it captured none of his warmth. Dany had not known the difference then, but now after seeing him so clearly in her dreams she concluded that whomever carved his likeness clearly had not known him, or at least, had not known him very well. Her mother had known him well, or at least well enough to trust him with news of her daughter’s very existence. 

_ How did one man hold two of Westeros’s biggest secrets? _ She wondered as yet another tear slid down her cheek. Somehow, she had managed to keep her composure until she was alone, but once the torrent of tears began, they had been difficult to stop. At some point, in an attempt to stop the sobs from wracking her body, she lowered herself to the stone floor. Now, she lacked the will or want to pull herself back up again. 

_ Queen of Nothing, _ a harsh voice from her past whispered in Dothraki. 

She barely heard the boots echo on the cobbled floor as they walked towards her. Dany did not need to look up, she knew who it would be before her husband even sat down next to her and patiently waited for her to speak to him. 

“Bran told you then?” she asked.

“He did,” Jon nodded slowly.  

“How can you even look at me?” 

“What?” 

“Who am I even?” 

“You’re my wife. You’re the Queen.” 

“Your wife,” Dany snorted. “You didn’t even know who you married. I don’t even know who I am. Regardless of Aerys being my father, I’m a bastard. I have no real claim to the Iron Throne. What kind of a queen is that?” 

“You and I are the same,” Jon pointed out. “This may surprise you, but I didn’t fall in love with you for your crown, or even your dragons. There’s no hidden agenda there. I didn’t mean to fall in love with you at all. But I fell in love with a woman, the most passionate women I’d ever met.” 

He paused and turned her face towards him.

“One day I spoke to Missandei. Davos was there, too. We asked her why she served  _ you _ . Do you know what she told me? She said you were the queen they chose. Did you become the Khaleesi because they all bowed and bent the knee to House Targaryen? No. The gods know the Dothraki don’t give a shit about that. Being a Targaryen didn’t earn you respect in Meereen. Aegon took the throne without a claim or a right to it. He united the Seven Kingdoms.” 

“I’m not Aegon.” 

“No, you’re better. You told me when we met that you endured all you had because of faith in yourself.” 

“I had faith in a person who doesn’t exist.” 

“No. You’re still Daenerys Targaryen. You still endured everything that happened to you. You  _ are _ the rightful queen now, even more so because you’ve earned it.” 

“What will I tell the people? Who would believe it?” 

“Tell them the truth. Once this is all over people won’t care how pure your blood is. Seven hells, some who still  _ only _ see you as a Targaryen might even be relieved. Your mother was a Dayne. Arthur Dayne was one of the greatest knights Westeros has ever seen.”

“The Mad King’s blood still flows through our veins. People might still resent it.” 

“The Northerners will believe Bran when he tells them everything. They might even love you more for being the daughter of the woman Ned Stark once loved. Everyone knew he loved her.” 

Dany glanced up at the statue of Ned again. “He helped send me away.” 

“To protect you.” 

Everything Barristan said made sense now. Everything Varys told her about Ned Stark trying to convince Robert not to have her assassinated...it all made sense now. 

“He sent you away to keep you safe,” Jon repeated. “He had no idea what Viserys would do. To him, I’m sure the further away you were from Robert, the better off you were.” 

“Part of me knows you’re right.”

“I’m not saying it shouldn’t still hurt.” 

“Bran warned me. He said it was dangerous. I knew better. But my dreams…” Dany trailed off. “I needed answers and so I didn’t listen to him.” 

She felt sick to her stomach as her emotions churned and roiled inside of her.  _ If I look back I am lost, _ she thought and nearly laughed in disgust at how true that rang in her mind. Everything she had believed as a child was a lie. Every story Viserys ever told her was a fallacy. The resentment he bore towards her made sense now. It was not because of  _ her _ that his mother died. She had not even thought to ask Bran about what really happened on Dragonstone the night Rhaella Targaryen died. A bastard sister was only useful to Viserys in as far as she helped get him a crown. When he saw her rise in prominence among the Dothraki, any affection he must have felt for her wore thin. She was but a pawn to him. Dany wondered what he would think of a bastard queen sitting on the Iron Throne with a bastard king at her side. 

_ I took this throne, _ she thought.  _ With fire and blood and I would take it again.  _

“Daenerys, let’s go up,” Jon urged. 

“Ned Stark risked everything for me,” Dany said, ignoring the request. “The daughter of the man who killed his father and brother.” 

“Bran said he loved your mother. Nothing would change that. He didn’t see you as the Mad King’s daughter. He saw you as Ashara’s daughter. He couldn’t keep her safe, so he wanted to keep you safe. Maybe if it wasn’t for me he would have taken you up North, raised you as his own.” 

Jon paused for a moment and tried to smile. 

“With this hair?” Dany asked, twirling a lock of her silver-gold hair between her fingers and nudging him. “Everyone would have known I was a Targaryen.” 

“He just wanted to get you away from Robert.” 

“Do you think he knew what he was sending me into? Do you think my mother knew?” 

“Absolutely not. He’d never knowingly send anyone he cared about into danger. He couldn’t have known then what Viserys would become.” 

“Every story by my brother…” she took a deep breath and sighed. “Every story Viserys told me was a lie. She was never  _ our _ mother. She was only  _ his _ mother. Maybe this isn’t even her ring. No wonder he hated me so much when he had to sell Rhaella’s crown.” 

“Viserys needed you just as much as you needed him,” Jon repeated. 

“I never grew up with a mother,” Dany said. “Why does it feel like I’ve lost something all over again?” 

“I think I know a bit about that.” 

“Of course you do. I’m sorry, Jon.” 

“Don’t be, but I do understand how you feel. The feeling of a lost connection. Sometimes I wish I knew Lyanna was my mother from the time I was young, to know that she was somebody, or that I was somebody. Bran and my father both said that she was like Arya.” 

“Did you ever think about asking Bran to look back more than he did?” 

“Of course I did, but where would that get me? I can’t change anything that happened.” 

“If I look back, I am lost.” 

“Who told you that?” Jon asked. 

“It’s just something I’ve always felt inside of me. I should have listened.” 

“Your mother would be proud of you, Dany. Of everything you’ve accomplished.” 

“I hope so, wherever she is now. I hope so. She helped me without even knowing it, or maybe she did.” 

“So Bran said. If she’s reached out before, she could reach out again.” 

“What would I say to her?” 

“You’ll know. When the time comes, you’ll know.” 

“Thank you.” 

“For what?” 

“I thought I wanted to be alone. That I wanted to sort this out by myself.” 

“As someone who did just that, I knew I couldn’t let you do the same. Even if I don’t have all of the answers.” 

“Help me up?” Dany asked, holding her hand out to Jon. 

He took her hand and helped pull her to her feet, pressing a kiss to her forehead as she stood up. 

“What am I going to tell everyone? Where do I even begin?” 

“You don’t have to tell them anything yet. Send Tyrion a raven when you’re ready. Take some time to yourself to let everything sink in.” 

Dany nodded and let Jon lead her out of the crypts and up to their chambers. 

XXXXX

Another piece of paper was tossed into the fire and Dany watched as the flames licked and singed the edges before consuming the parchment completely and turning it to ash. It was her third attempt to write a letter to Tyrion and she still could not find the right way to put pen to paper and express what she felt she needed to say. Perhaps Jon was right. Perhaps she needed more time to contemplate everything that had happened. Although she heard no sound, Dany could feel that someone was in the room with her. She did not have to turn around to know who it was. She had felt this way before on the  _ Balerion _ and then again in Meereen. 

“Quaithe,” she said and closed her eyes. 

“Daenerys,” replied the familiar voice.  _ The voice from my dream _ , Dany thought, realizing why some part of her had recognized it. 

“Should I call you Ashara now?” she asked, turning around. For the first time, the mysterious woman she met in Qarth wore no mask and Dany gazed upon the face of her mother. 

“The three-eyed raven told you everything then?” 

“He told me enough,” Dany replied, forgetting her conversation hours ago with Jon. Forgetting to be anything but hurt and angry for the years of lost time. “He told me what I needed to know. What I don’t understand is why you didn’t tell me yourself. You clearly had the opportunity.”

“I wanted to. I tried to. I told you to remember who you are.” 

“You could have done more than speak to me in veiled language and riddles.” 

“No,” Ashara said simply, moving closer towards her daughter. She looked younger than Dany had expected, not so much older than she had been in the dream she had. It occurred to Dany that Ashara was probably no older than forty, if she was even that. “I couldn’t have. You weren't ready to hear the truth. It was something you needed to seek out for yourself when the time was right.” 

“How is  _ this _ the right time?” Dany asked. “We are at war with the greatest enemy Westeros has ever known and I’m about to have a child. I could have done without the jarring distraction. You planted that dream, didn’t you?” 

“No. Your dreams and your visions come to you of your own accord. You said it yourself once. You are no ordinary woman. You dreams come true. It is a gift of our house.” 

“Is it? Or is it a curse?” 

“I suppose in time you will decide that for -”

“Why did you abandon me?” Dany asked, cutting the woman off, her voice choked with a mix of sadness and anger. She watched as Ashara recoiled from the verbal blow. 

“I did it to keep you safe. Because it was the only way to ensure I could  _ always _ be with you. One way or another if we stayed together in Dorne Robert would have found us.” 

“Why did you go to Dorne to begin with?” 

“Because the North was not an option. Ned Stark would have done everything he could to protect us, but he...he had his own secrets to keep and you, with your unmistakable hair, wouldn’t have been able to be kept hidden here. Robert was so hellbent on ridding the world of all Targaryens that he would not have stopped to consider that the Daynes shares many of the same traits as the Targaryens. It would have been pointless to lie. So Ned helped get to me to Dorne. It was the last time I ever saw him alive before he returned to the North. The Martells hated Robert and the Lannisters even more than they hated Rhaegar. Oberyn had long been a friend. He was still reeling from the loss of Elia. I don’t think he ever truly recovered. I asked if he would help keep you safe. I’ll never forget what he told me. There were tears in his eyes when he said,  _ We don’t hurt little girls in Dorne. _ ” 

“Why not stay hidden in Dorne? Why not take me to Viserys yourself?” 

“If you were to be the Targaryen Princess and Queen you were meant to be, I couldn’t be part of it. You couldn’t have memories of me. That’s why Oberyn took you to Viserys when he did.” 

“Do you have any idea what I went through with Viserys and with Drogo?” 

“I didn’t know what would happen when I let you go, but I know it now.” 

“I never asked to be a queen. Growing up I would have been quite content with a mother, a family who loved me.” 

“The gods have fashioned you for greatness, Daenerys. Your happiness was not in your past, but in your future.” 

“If I look back I am lost…” 

“Yes. Someday, you too will know what it is like to make a difficult decision to leave a child.” 

“Never,” Dany protested. “I would never leave my child.” 

“You would if it meant ensuring their safety.” 

“I will be able to keep  _ my _ child safe.” 

“Yes,” Ashara said. “I think you will.” 

“Why didn’t you help me? All those years we lived in squalor, everything that happened in Essos, why didn’t you help?” 

“I tried, as much as I could. But I know what you needed to become. I trusted in the prophecies and I was right.” 

“You’ll go again?” Dany’s voice was quiet, filled with the hope that she could make the visitor stay, but something deep within her already knew the answer to the question she asked. 

“I’m afraid I must, but before I go, there is one last piece of wisdom to impart. Beware, Daenerys. Beware the sword of ice that will cloud your mind and pierce your heart.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“Dany?” Jon asked from the doorway. She had been so caught up that she had not even heard him come through the door. “Who were you talking to?” 

Turning back to where Ashara stood, she found the space to be empty. It was as if no one had been there, just as it had been when she appeared to Dany at sea and under the persimmon tree in Meereen. 

“A shadow. A memory,” Dany replied. She shook her head in disbelief as she faced Jon once more. “My mother.” 

  
  



End file.
